


Summer 1982

by illiadus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Almost a musicfic? If you squint?, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Consensual Underage Sex, Eventual Fluff, Eventual smut/romance, Everyone being a little shit, Except Marco obviously, F/F, F/M, General hoodlumism, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, More teenage angst then you can shake a decently sized stick at, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Piercings, Precious baby punks, Recreational Drug Use, Tattoos, The odd traumatic event, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, dark pasts, hijinks a-plenty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illiadus/pseuds/illiadus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sina, Maria and Rose were just road names in an average town, in regular ass-crack nowhere, in America mid-1982? </p><p>The 80's AU where the SNK cast are teenagers doing teenage things during their summer vacation, learning about love, life, liquor and (kind of) responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shake the Disease

**Author's Note:**

> Christ on bike, I am hella nervous about this- my first ever fic! I hope you guys enjoy it, and if there’s some popular response I’ll start working on future chapters. Um, just as a heads-up, the beginning of this chapter is a little slow-going, just because I want to set the scene properly and all that.. Sorry! :)
> 
> N.B Follow this link http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Summer+1982/98427061 for a playlist of all the music each chapter is named after so you can listen whilst you read and vice versa and just absorb all the 80's goodness

EREN'S POV.

Eren took a deep breath through his nose and forced it out of his lungs the same way, appreciating the spongy combination of grass and verdant scrub his body was splayed across. The air was sweet and great slabs of lurid sunlight filtered through the luscious trees which bordered the tiny park. He checked his watch sparingly, pretending if he paid it no mind would distract him from how late his ride was. Eren had always loathed having to rely on others for things, but that was one of the great burdens of being totally under Mikasa’s thumb; their somewhat dingy shared Toyota Starlet was predominantly hers until he could save up for his own car. 

That being said Stohess, Arizona wasn’t exactly rife with places anyone was desperate to get to. School was okay, his sophomore year had drifted past with little impact; same group of excitable friends as last year, same batshit teachers, same below-average grades. Besides there, the only places Eren visited were various friends houses which were often no more than a ten-minute bike ride away anyway, plus the park, the tacky Star Market where he and his friends had discovered Reiner could buy beer, the stretch of scrub land they built bonfires on, and when they were lucky the sordid downtown area, where on a certain night at a certain bar they could occasionally slip in without getting carded. 

He lay still a little longer, thoughts and worries gently passing through his mind, acknowledged but not fully addressed; summer vacation was far from over at early August and Eren wasn’t willing to begin dwelling on serious matters for at least another month. Stabbing through his introspective stupor came an aggressive double-beep of Bertolt’s shitty but beloved Ford truck. Eren sat up and waved, before standing and jogging over, squinting against the relentless assault of the sun. Reiner sat up front in the cab alongside Bertolt, the muscular frame and confident grin he sported quite the opposite to Bertl’s gangly proportions and shy wave in return to Eren's. 

In the trailer sat six teenagers; Jean Kirstein and Marco Bott one side, Annie Leonhart, Christa Renz and Armin Arlert sat on the other, resembling one long streak of blonde and disapproving blue eyes, watching whilst Connie Springer and Sasha Blause wrestled in the middle of the contraption, both intent on snatching the apparently salvageable Reese's Peanut Butter Cup from the other. Eren snorted and used his much-practiced technique of ignoring them to slither into the shelf (‘seat’, yeah bullshit Bertl) besides Marco, who greeted him with his typically sunny smile.

Eren's friends were weird, no doubt about that. A big miss-matched group of teenagers, all gearing up to become juniors or seniors in Annie, Reiner and Jean’s case at Trost High School, in the next town across. These kids were all the Stohess ones with no local school, and families without the cash to actually move over to Trost. This single common factor had bound them all together into a sort of family. A terrifying, dysfunctional, and sometimes downright disgusting family, but one all the same. 

His eyes swept around, Jean and Marco were absorbed in conversation about Pac-Man from what Eren could tell, Armin was talking to Krista, and Annie as ever was brooding. Eren felt an overwhelming warmth in his chest for his friends and their distinctive selves; Krista was sweet and honest, her hair typically bouffant as was the current fashion, she dressed in a pleated mini-skirt and a blouse which betrayed her somewhat roguish attitude; it was a little worn and torn in places, with a blatant strip of mud sprayed down the left side. He smiled at her and joined their conversation, trying to keep up with their lightning-paced discussion on le Carré's latest novel, which no, shockingly, Eren hadn’t got around to reading. Nor most likely ever would. 

Armin had been his best friend since he could remember; they had grown up on the same street and he still thought of Armin as the weedy but mentally razor-sharp boy Eren and Mikasa had defended as kids, despite how much he had grown up over the past few years. His face was still wholesome and round, and his blonde bangs still fell in an elegant curve around his chin, but his jeans were acid-washed and his feet sported ‘they’ll be in fashion soon just you wait’ patented Doc Martens. Much to his Grandfather’s chagrin he had also let Jean piece his ears, once in each lobe which he displayed with pride when he tied up his hair. Armin was vulnerable sure, but he was beginning to emanate that ‘don’t-fuck-with-me vibe’ which kids like Eren and Mikasa were apparently born with.

Annie Leonhart sat gently sucking on a cigarette, fiddling with her nose piercing (another Jean-experiment) and looking moody as ever. Annie was difficult to figure out at first, but once she came out of her shell (read: drunk) she was more fun than almost anyone Eren knew, plus she knew the best places to score pot and was close with his adopted sister, Mikasa. 

Mikasa should have been joining them tonight, but instead promised to meet up later. Mikasa was almost always good on her promises; she was the same year as Jean and Reiner, but had always seemed at least five years older than them to in Eren's eyes. Up front Bertolt revved the engine and the truck jerked into a dilapidated movement south, towards the beginning of the Sonoran Desert.  
“So, Eren, how’s your day been?” Marco asked softly with a hesitant smile.

Marco was shy, and kind, caring and funny. He dressed in cute flannels and drain pipe jeans. Those are six of the thirty-two thousand reasons why Eren have never understood Marco and Jean’s friendship. Jean was a fucking douche most of the time. He was brash, honest to the point of being unpleasant, abrasive and generally not nice to be around. Jean wore bleached and ripped trousers with an absolutely unnecessary leather jacket considering the heat, and a pair of ray-bans that made him look like an absolute tool in Eren's opinion, along with the two sterling rings which wrapped their way through and around his lip, both on the left side. That being said, the guy did have his moments of being cool and sometimes even funny, but it still didn’t explain in his mind why Marco looked at Jean like he shits out sunlight, nor why Jean smiled an irritating amount when Marco was around.

Banishing these thoughts, Eren replied, “Fine thank you, just kicking around the house, trying to fix my bike’s busted wheel”  
Marco hummed interestedly, but before he could respond a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup was crushed against his knee in another of Connie’s vain attempts to keep it out of Sasha’s maw. 

Connie was short, shorter than Armin definitely, and although he hotly denied it not much taller than Annie. His skin was olive and he kept his hair cropped short, pretty much consistently buzzed to a number one. He dressed in a shitty old Yankees Letterman and jeans which were in a worse state than Marco’s but miles better than Jean’s. Sasha donned flannels and short-shorts more often than not, long hair as unfailingly tied back as her appetite was unfailingly unsated. 

“Aw shit. my bad Mar-” Connie’s apology was cut off as Sasha made a final desperate grab for the candy and tore it from his grasp, whooping with glee and sidling up to sit in the safety of Annie’s lap, who didn’t exactly look thrilled but it wasn’t like Sasha had any respect for anyone’s personal space anyway, and began to eat her prize. Connie sighed and pulled the cooler out from beneath on the the shelves (no really Bert these don’t qualify as seats) to sit on.

“For fuck’s sake you guys, was that really worth the fight?” Jean said, scathingly  
“Awww don’t be like that Captain Grumpy-Ass” baited back Sasha, doing a surprisingly good impression of Jean in a strop “Oooh I’m Jean, look at my face judging you, my horsey horsey fa-”  
“Fuck you Blause!” Jean catcalled return, expression softening when he saw that Marco despite himself was giggling. The group continued to poke name at each other, trading never truly barbed insults, until they reached their destination. One hundred metres into the Sonoran Desert was a small fire pit used to the point of ruin by the local kids and tonight was no exception.

Bertholt and Reiner slid out of the front cab laughing, as Bert lit a cigarette and helped Marco lower the firewood that had brought to the dusty ground. Bert smoked due to his nerves, which were never helped by Connie and Sasha’s high jinks, he dressed in rockabilly style, and was growing his hair out so it had now reached an awkward feathered length around the nape of his neck. Eren hopped out of the trailer and received a small bump in the ribs from Armin. 

“Are you alright Eren? You seem weirdly, quiet? Not as mean to Jean? Usually you love coming out here”  
Eren nodded in response, he had always loved the desert. “Yeah, my bad for not keeping up my Jean-bashing appearances.. Dad’s home at the moment, it’s not bad it’s just.. Uncomfortable I guess”  
Armin nodded, understanding immediately and patted Eren's shoulder soothingly. Jean then hauled the cooler out from underneath Connie’s ass, with no prior warning to Connie, and began handing out beers. Eren accepted his with a grunt and popped the tab before turning to help Marco and Bert fumble with the firewood, helping them teepee it out over the pit, but backing off once the firestarters were out.

“Yo Annie” He slumped beside her, sipping at his surprisingly lukewarm beer.  
“Hey there kid.. Do you think I should tell Bert he’s in the perfect position to ignite Marco’s asscheek there if he doesn’t stop trying to talk to Reiner whilst handling firestarters?” I glanced over and observed that indeed, Marco crouching over the firewood arranging the kindling did put him in prime position to get burned by Bert as he looked behind him, talking to Reiner animatedly.  
Eren hummed “I think it’s the kind of thing that they have to learn from experience”  
Annie nodded sagely and offered him a cigarette.  
They smoked together, eventually roping Armin, Krista and Sasha to sit with in a semicircle, talking and laughing and drinking our beers.  
Connie and Jean attempted to join in on the macho manly man activities but ending up throwing in the towel and sitting until by some fluke Bert got the fire lit, only singeing Marco’s behind a minute amount.

“So really,” Jean leant in conspiratorially once the group were organized in a little semicircle around fire, all watching the little blaze and some moving onto their third beer “Someone has to ask.”  
Armin cocked his head in a gesture of confusion “Ask what?”  
“Armin come on, seriously, I think I know what your answer is going to be to this question actually..”  
I decided to pipe up “Spit it out Jean you fucking moron, what are you going ask?”  
Jean dramatically drained his beer then glanced around the circle  
“So, the question is, who’s a virgin?”

JEAN'S POV

“So, the question is, who’s a virgin?”  
Jean couldn’t help but grin as he watched the reactions around the circle.  
“Well,” he began confidently as he tugged the cooler over to grab another beer “who wants to start?”  
Eren immediately started scowling. “Well seeing as it’s your idea you should probably go first”  
Jean shrugged, it wasn’t a bad point. “Seeing as you’re so interested Jaegerbomb, no I am not a virgin.” It was drunken, disappointing and once, but he decided against mentioning that in favour of mentally reaffirming to himself that it still counted.

Armin’s eyebrows raised, and Marco blushed a little but Eren just scoffed. “Bullshit Kirstein, absolute fucking bullshit”  
Jean glanced at Reiner who met his eyes before thoroughly rolling his own. “Unfortunately not Eren, it was Mina Caroline, last year at Tom Wagner’s house party,” he paused to grimace “I, ah, walked in Jean and her by mistake, and will never quite scrape that image of my retinas.”  
Jean grinned and slapped him on the back, “That’s my man!”  
“No but really, fuck you, I get night terrors now.” 

Connie laughed especially hard at Reiner’s joke, or at least Jean assumed a joke, and he raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Who me?” Connie smirked “Jean, you know I have mad game”  
Jean rolled his eyes at that almost as a knee-jerk reaction at Connie talking about his 'game'. Incidentally he had also never seen Connie get past second base with a girl.  
“Oh yeah? Who then?” exclaimed Sasha, “I didn’t realize pygmies were popular with the bitches”  
Everyone snorted with laughter and Connie's expense, Bert choking on his beer and needing a good thump on the back from Reiner. “Hey, remember that Hannah girl? Who left last year to move to California? Yeah, her” Connie said triumphantly.

“Bullshit” Annie said scathingly “She was with that enormous Franz guy the entire time she went to Trost High School”  
Connie grinned and gave her his best lewd eyebrow wriggle “That’s just what she wants you to think, baby”  
Scandalized gasps circled the group and what had now evolved into a game continued: unsurprisingly most of the group were virgins, although most had done their fair share of foreplay, just not ‘done the deed’. 

Reiner admitted he had had sex with his ex-girlfriend Hitch a few times which was of no surprise to anyone, and Annie coldly said she was also not a virgin, but the guy she lost it to was ‘no one you losers would know’. The only real surprise of the game was Bertl, who before flushing red and producing enough sweat to hydrate a small African village, confessed he had fucked someone too. 

“No way” Sasha gasped and Jean followed the sentiment, before asking impishly “So, who was she?”  
Bertl flushed all over again before stammering that it was someone who had graduated this year and was going away to college further up the country.  
Even Eren rolled his eyes at that “yeah Bertl” he pressed, “But what was her name?”  
Bertl squeaked a few times before averting his eyes to the ground and mumbling something  
Reiner poked his side and whined “Speak up, and how come you never told me about this? I thought we were best friends man” Bertl gazed in anguish at Reiner’s hangdog expressed before sighing, sweating some more and mumbling again.

This time Armin heard from his other side and his eyes rushed to the size of dinner plates “Wow. Really Bertie? Wow.. I wouldnt’ve guessed that was all” Armin breathed all this out in a rush before looking around guiltily “It’s probably better to leave it gu-”  
“No no, it’s okay” Bertl looked around with an unfamiliar quality of steel in his eyes “It was Mylius. Mylius Zeramuski. The blondish guy on the track team last year?”  
The teenagers all let out a bemused breath. Jean himself had never suspected Bertl of being gay, and from the way the lanky boy was squirming now Jean realised he probably knew that.  
Jean clapped him on the back, fuck it, he thought, solidarity and all that. He found himself saying “Good job man, he was cute”  
The tension dissolved immediately and the rest of the group followed suit, Reiner still looking a little hurt he wasn’t the first one to know.

The alcohol began to work through people’s systems, and Sasha squealed a demand for a game of Never Have I Ever. Armin retreated to the truck to grab some plastic cups and the bottle of whisky that he and Krista had picked up earlier, and they began their game. It started out pretty tame, boring shit like “Have you ever been walked in one whilst fooling around?”  
Jean drank heartily to that one, shooting Reiner a wiggle of the eyebrows  
“Streaked?”  
Connie fist pumped and chugged half his cup to that one, Eren also grinned and followed suit to my surprise, Jaegerbombastic was usually pretty much a pussy about sex and nudity, despite his reckless nature  
“Pissed yourself?”  
“Had sex in public?”  
“Done a body shot?”  
It then came to Jean's turn, and he decided to honour Bertl’s accidental coming out with a slightly drunken slur of “Ever thought about someone of the same sex in, y’know, that way?” 

(Cut some slack here, although streaking was a no he had done the rest of those things, even the pissing thing which sounds weird out of context but that was honestly the most falling-down-drunk he had ever been)

Jean glanced around, Armin shrugged and drank, naturally so did Bertl, following suit was Krista, Annie and Reiner. The last person to drink was Marco, which surprised him a little. Jean was close with Marco, like crazy close and he had never mentioned anything of the sort to him. All those times they had hung out at Jean's place until four in the morning watching lame VCR tapes or singing to songs they both outwardly pretended to hate, even the times they got stoned and laid on the roof, talking shit and gazing at the stars he had never said a word to Jean about liking guys, even a little. He frowned a little, making a mental note to ask him about it later on.

The game continued and several re-fills were made, then once everyone had exhausted their imaginations Bertl pulled his boombox out onto the trailer and played it as loud as he could. Sasha and Connie danced like lunatics, even Eren was drunk enough to grab Armin by the hands and swing him around.

Jean threw himself into the action, thrashing around with Connie until he was out of breath and had to slump down into the sandy scrub and gently puff on a cigarette he had been planning to save. He grabbed onto a familiar ankle as it passed him by, causing Marco to stumble and fall practically on top of him, but the exercise had sent the alcohol straight to Jean's brain so that didn’t perturb him in the slightest 

“Heeeeeey Marcooo”  
He giggled in that little way he did that assured Jean that everything was going to be okay and the world was a good place really, and in a fit of affection he gathered Marco up in my arms (no easy feat) and squeezed him in a tight embrace, his hand unconciously carding through his hair in that way it seemed perfectly natural to him at the time. The moment stretched on, their hearts and small huffs of breath happening in tandem, right up until Eren stood square on Jean's crotch.

He was not drunk enough for that to not hurt.

He thrashed in pain, displacing Marco who was in quiet hysterics of laughter  
“Fuck you Jaeger!” Jean screamed with all the gruffness he could muster when it felt like his voice had transposed four octaves higher. This just made Marco (the little Judas) and Eren (the little shit) laugh even harder. He curled up into a little nauseous ball of hate for Eren, and lay on the floor groaning until Reiner came over and poked his side.

“What’s wrong there friend?”  
Jean just groaned some more and clutched his probably-ruptured testicles.  
Reiner then just joined in the giggling at my expense. All Jean could think was seriously, fuck my friends.

REINER'S POV

Eventually Jean stood up, but continued pouting until Marco fussed over him and the he swore to Odin that he was going to ‘fucking castrate Eren Jaeger for the crimes he had committed against his balls’, which was sweet of him really.

Reiner was feeling pretty good, sipping away at the bottom quarter of the whisky bottle and shamelessly dancing with Annie and Bertl, who honestly he did feel a little betrayed by. What kind of person doesn’t tell their friends, fuck, their closest friend that they had sex? With a guy? That wasn’t really the part that bothered Reiner, he had thought about guys in that way before too. Did his friend think he was some kind of raging homophobe who would eschew him if he liked boys? He doubted that. Over the sound of some lame Depeche Mode song which Armin loved, came the rumble of an engine.

“It’s Mikasa!” Eren exclaimed, only slurring a little to his credit “Oh man she brought her graduate friends, can we change the music to something cooler?”  
The Toyota Starlet pulled up and out evacuated Mikasa, some tall blonde guy with killer eyebrows, a girl with hair a bit like Sasha’s but with glasses which gave her the look of a madwoman, and finally a tall girl with freckles.  


“What’s up ‘Kasa?” Eren greeted clumsily, however Mikasa seemed similarly bombed, and after wrapping Eren in a hug, began to mingle along with her friends; the girl with freckles immediately latching onto Krista, who seemed totally unphased by the sudden attention, Reiner wound up chatting with Eren and Mr Eyebrows, who introduced himself as Erwin. 

“All I’m saying is, there’s no way the punk over here is as good as it is in the UK”  
“Yeah but who gives a damn about that, it’s still about rock’n’roll in my opinion-”  
“Wow let me stop you there” Reiner interjected, “what about Def Leppard?”  
Erwin and Eren both shook their heads. “That’s metal, dumbass.” 

From then he kind of tuned out, the whisky bottle gone and his head gently spinning.


	2. Burning Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so quickly just to say some of the music I mention in this fic although from the 80's probably wouldn't be around by this point but shh, use your imagination kids.  
> Also at this point in Arizona the drinking age was 19, hence the reference to that later on in the chapter.  
> Thank you for your kudos and even just reading it, hope you enjoy this installment :)

CONNIE’S POV

Connie woke up with a groan and sunlight streaming into his eyes through the open window. He was in his designated zone of the left side of Sasha’s queen-sized bed, her sleeping self splayed across the other side in her typically haphazard manner. Connie rolled his neck and grunted with satisfaction as it clicked into a less painful disposition, before scooting over to the Sasha’s pillow to poke her cheek

“Sashaaaa”  
She grunted in response  
“Yo, Sashs come on it’s like” he checked his battered watch, “It’s like midday, get on up loser”  
Sasha turned over and waved a hand in response, obviously not giving a shit.  
“Sasha..” Connie wheedled “Are you sure you don’t want.. Breakfast? I could make you some of those eggs you love..”  
That was all the motivation she needed to spring upwards and out of the bed, and grope for his hand. 

“Ooooh really? With the toast and the cheese and everything?”  
Connie sighed and sat up, head whirling in protest.  
“Sure thing, fuck I feel terrible”  
“That’s probably because you let that crazy Hanji girl challenge you to shots, Bertl puked like everywhere after that”  
“Ew gross..” Connie dragged himself upright, his head giving another treacherous lurch. “Alright, let’s go see what’s in the fridge, if not everything’s there though I am not walking to the store, if I do I’ll probably combust and then no one will be there no make you any food.”

Sasha rolled her eyes at his dramatics and pulled him up and out her bedroom door, down towards the kitchen. Her parents had already left for work, but the kitchen was mostly intact and Connie opened the fridge, pulling out all the ingredients he would need for what in his head he called ‘Sasha’s stupid favourite fucking eggs’. Sasha grinned and turned on the radio, which was promptly turned off after Connie started groaning all over again, clutching at his head and demanding tylenol.

Once the eggs were sizzling away and they were both dosed up on tylenol, talk turned to last night. “Remind me again, how the fuck did we get home?” Connie asked, expertly flipping Sasha’s Stupid Favourite Fucking Favourite Eggs and stretching his back, hitching up his boxers whilst he was at it. “Turns out Krista designated herself driver the moment Armin pulled out that whisky, so we just got dropped off. Thank fucking Christ I remembered my key..”

Connie hummed thoughtfully, emptying the pan of Sasha’s Stupid Favourite Fucking Favourite Eggs and putting them into a pair of cheesy plastic plates adorned with Sesame Street characters, adjusting his the vest covering his torso which he hadn’t noticed until now. He plonked the plate in front of Sasha who started devouring it as only Sasha could, before he more calmly tucked into his plate.

“Hold on, is that my shirt?” Connie squinted at the exceptionally lame Banana Splits t-shirt which was stretched across Sasha’s chest.  
“Um yeah, well you do leave your shit everywhere and it is an exceptionally lame Banana Splits t-shirt”  
“Hey! It’s ironically awesome! And I’ve been looking for it everywhere”

“Whatever Con,” She stood up and moved her plate to the sink “Before you ask yes, these are your boxers too”  
Connie spluttered on his mouthful of eggs, “How the fuck did you manage to steal a pair of my underpants without me noticing?!”  
Sasha just shrugged, "no idea, think I was wearing them on my head when we tried those shrooms at your place with Jean and Annie the other week and just sort of forgot about them..”

Connie’s eyes bugged “Alright let me reiterate, why the fuck you wearing them on your head in the first place?”  
“They were to keep the Xenomorphs out of my earholes, Jean said it was a good plan, and they just kind of stayed on until I got home and by then they had.. Chosen me I guess”

EREN’S POV

Eren awoke much more pleasantly, to a stabbing headache and a mournful groan that he hadn’t drunk water before he slept like Mikasa always told him to. His drymouth was entering the realms of epic so he shuffled downstairs, clad in boxers and dragging his duvet with him like a cape.  
Mikasa was already awake and having a cigarette in the kitchen, eyes tired and hands clasped around a mug of coffee.  
“Dad’s gone” were her only words of greeting

Eren sighed, their dad had only been home a week, which was less than usual before he had to disappear off to another far-off state. He knew it wasn’t his fault really; his dad was one of the only three experts on specific heart conditions in America, but he was the only family they had besides each other since their mother had passed away five years ago. Eren had almost exclusively been raised by Mikasa since then, and their dad still paid all the bills and left as much spending money as he could.  
“How long’s he going to be?” Eren asked, shuffling around and pouring himself a generous cup of coffee.

“Not before school starts again he doesn’t think, he did leave about $200 though”  
“That’s not so bad,” Eren paused to lean across the counter and take a drag of Mikasa’s cigarette “We can survive a month and a half”  
Mikasa nodded and he coaxed a small smile out of her before turning around to fix himself a bowl of cereal. “Oh by the way, Eren” Mikasa giggled “Nice neck.” Eren gasped and jogged to look in the hallway mirror, head protesting violently. 

There were not hickeys as he had feared, but rather a smeared phone number, thankfully still legible. He wandered back into the kitchen. “Not a hook up I’m afraid dear sister” He began eating his cereal with gusto, pausing only to add, “You know the tall guy? Ermin, Arwin-”  
“Erwin, you fucking dope”  
“Yeah whatever, Mr Eyebrows as Reiner probably didn’t realise he was calling him, and I got talking and he said he knew someone who could get me a summer job. This is the number I was supposed to call to get details.”

Mikasa nodded and crushed out her cigarette. “Yeah, he works downtown, at The Pirripin. It’s a pretty nice bar, all the patrons are queer as hell but still, good people and good money. Want me to drive you down there later on? I’m meeting Annie and Krista for coffee.”  
“More coffee?” Eren nudged her playfully until she rolled her eyes to the point it looked painful.  
“Yes dickfuck. Do you want that lift or not?”  
“Yeah, yeah hold on just let me change and ring Armin”

Eren bolted upstairs and changed into one of his more presentable plain t-shirts with some dark jeans. He checked himself in the mirror and wondered not for the first time if he should let Jean pierce his eyebrow. He thought it would look pretty badass, before putting in his lobe piercings but opting to leave out his cartilage and helix. He wanted to look at least a little presentable for his potential future employers, before grabbing the phone of the cradle in the hall and almost from muscle memory tapping in Armin’s number. His grandfather picked up on the second ring.

“Hi Mr Arlert, it’s Eren”  
“Aaah hello there Eren, yes Armin is just here, I’ll let you two chat shop..”  
Armin’s voice replaced his grandfather’s on the phone, a little breathless  
“Hey Eren, you only just up?”  
“Pretty much yeah, say I’ve gotta go downtown to ask about a summer job, d’you know if anything’s going on tonight?”  
“Hmmm.. Not sure, I know tomorrow night we’re hanging out at Jean’s so probably not”  
“Huh, okay just as well I suppose, alright see you tomorrow then, I’ll cycle over in the afternoon some time?”  
“Yeah sure, good luck with getting your job!”

After that Armin disconnected and Eren jogged downstairs to finish off his coffee. He and Mikasa didn’t end up heading off the downtown until four, seeing as the bar was unlikely to be open at an earlier hour. They arrived by quarter to four since the traffic was shitty, and Eren lingered outside the somewhat foreboding little bar until his nerves were under control. It wasn’t a huge place inside, just a small bar area with a dance floor making up the rest of the room.  
“Eren!” He smiled at Erwin, approaching from a back room, and replied with a shy greeting.

“So, turns out there’s a few extra shifts tonight if you’re willing to start right away? It’s $4 an hour plus tips, and the owner, Pixis, is more than willing to believe you’re nineteen so you can get to work right away at the bar no problems”  
Eren grinned “No, that’s great, thanks”  
Erwin nodded, “Alright perfect, I’m not actually working tonight, I just needed to finish up some numbers for Pixis, but someone will be in soon who can show you what to do and all that”  
Eren took a seat by the bar as Erwin dived into the back room again to retrieve his coat and say a brief goodbye, passing a small dark-haired man as he left.

The dark-haired man immediately fixed Eren with a steely glare.  
“So,” his voice was surprisingly gravelly, dark and low and oddly seductive. Eren swallowed and ignored that odd thought as the man continued to talk “You’re the little brat I’ve got to teach what’s what around here”  
Eren was taken aback by the insult after all of Erwin’s cordial politeness, “Eren.” he shot back “Eren, not brat”  
“Whatever, shitty brat. The name’s Levi, come back here and I’ll get showing you the ropes.”

Eren spent the next two hours in a permanent state of embarrassment, he was clumsy in comparison to Levi with his dainty but deft hands. His constant criticism didn't help either.  
“Be careful with that, fucking idiot”  
“Gently, numbnuts”  
“Don’t pour it like that you shitting ox”  
“For fuck’s sake don’t drop it”  
Eren just grit his teeth and thought about the $28 dollars he would be making from this.

“Watch out, you stumbling idiot”  
“Say ‘backs’ when you’re walking behind me, don’t just stare at my ass and stutter”  
That threw Eren off even further. Levi was very distracting, all sheer hips, tight jeans and disparaging looks.  
“Well look at that, you’ve spilt it now, shitty brat”  
At that point Eren snapped “Would you stop calling me that! It’s Eren. E-R-E-N, not fucking difficult to say.”  
Levi instantly snapped around from arranging the glasses to glare at him “Shut up, I call you what I like because I’m your fucking superior. Also I find it insulting that Pixis can’t tell you’re only what, sixteen?”  
“Seventeen soon” Eren muttered dejectedly  
“Yeah, whatever. You’re younger than me and my inferior so get back to work.” To rub salt on the wound he smirked and added “shitty brat”  
“I’m about a head taller than you! What are you, a fucking fourteen-year-old midget?”  
“I’m twenty-two you grumpy little fuck, now shut up. We’re opening in a minute.”

Eren stewed in his bad mood for a few minutes, but then quickly the bar began to fill up- the dancefloor too. Eren was having orders thrown at him left right and centre, which were muffled considerably by the music which had began to pump through the room. Madonna predominantly, Eren noticed, who Mikasa and Armin loved. He even caught himself gently humming along during slower periods of service. The stress of the job quickly detracted from his pissy mood at Levi, and he found himself being glad for his somewhat cut-throat crash-course in bartending, only needing Levi’s help when a particularly exotic mix was requested. Seven hours later Eren was run off his feet, head pounding and eyes draining of all moisture. 

Levi locked up, waving goodbye to the bouncers and heading out the back door, lighting a cigarette as he did. Eren followed him unsure of what to do, and realising he would have to walk the half-hour home, which would only worsen his mood.  
“Erwin and Petra are taking tomorrow’s shift, so you won’t be needed until Friday” Levi said to Eren as he shrugged a leather jacket over his shoulders. Not an embarrassing douchey one like Jean’s, but a stylish one that hugged his curves and brought out his sallow skin tone to a glowing ivory in the dark.

“Right” mumbled Eren as he tried to light one of the cigarettes he had taken from Mikasa’s pack earlier.  
Levi unlocked his car and looked over to Eren, standing like a struggling lemon before sighing.  
“Get in brat, I’ll give you a lift home.”


	3. Any Way You Want It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! I am having a huge amount of fun writing this, and I hope you guys are having just as much reading it :) any and all comments, kudos and bookmarks are amazing to receive, thank you so much y'all!
> 
> Oh N.B., the chapters are titled after any songs or a song by an artist mentioned in the respective chapter, just as a means of explanation for the somewhat unusual names c:

EREN’S POV

Eren eyed Levi up warily. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the guy, it was just he seemed liable to get pissed that Eren was inhaling the same air as him and hack his head off with the pine air freshener which dangled from the front mirror of his Honda Civic. 

Eren considered the option of walking the half hour home, or potential death.  
“Come on brat, I haven’t got all fucking night” Levi called from the drivers seat, arching his head back and exhaling a plume of smoke.  
Eren pursed his lips and walked around to clamber in the other side, finally lighting his cigarette and taking a heady lungful from it.  
“Tch, seatbelt on.” Levi griped, before gunning the engine and exiting the parking lot. 

“So whereabouts do you live?”  
Eren shook himself from his reverie and recited his address as his mom had taught him: “32 Maria Road, near-”  
“Near Shiganshina park, yeah I know the place.” Levi cut him off before taking another liberal drag from his cigarette, arching his neck again to exorcise the cloying toxins from his lungs.

Eren couldn’t help but be a little hypnotised by the movement, Levi’s face cutting a dramatic silhouette against the moonlight and streetlamps filtering into the car. From this angle Eren could quietly admire his sheer cheekbones and prominent adam’s apple, in a totally straight way that was. 

“Take a goddamn picture would you? It’ll last longer” Levi snapped, but not with his usual venom  
“Oh, uh, my bad.” Eren distracted himself and did his best to mask the blush rising on his cheeks by returning to his cigarette, gently ashing it into the crystal tray mounted onto the top of the dashboard. 

Levi flicked the radio on, a cassette beginning which clattered into the opening chords a Journey song which Reiner and Bertl always dueted to on guitar and bass (poorly).  
Eren hummed along due to force of habit, even softly singing along to the chorus  
“ _Any way you want it- _”__  
“- _That’s the way you need it _,” Eren was shocked by Levi finishing of the line in a lilting baritone, and looked up at him with a quirked brow__

“Yeah, I sing in the car shitty brat, just like every other functioning human being in the universe with a radio.” he chided  
“Alright I just wasn’t expecting, I mean you’re pretty uptight,” Eren fumbled with his words, feeling more than a little guilty for reasons he didn’t quite understand.  
“Ah shut the fuck up, I’m not that uptight, I just don’t like dealing with shitheads” Levi countered.  
Eren felt his temper flare a little “What, and I’m a shithead?”  
“That remains to be seen.” 

The car smoothly pulled up outside 32 Maria Road, and Eren hopped out, thrown off by Levi’s final comment.  
“Well thanks for the lift, see you friday”  
Levi only smirked in reply before pulling off and driving down the road  
Eren wasn’t sure how to feel about that one little bit.

REINER’S POV

Reiner was an organised guy, always had been. Thursday morning he should have woken up like he did every day, at 10:30, usually jerked off before showering, then fixed himself breakfast and then went out for a jog. Reiner did not wake up at 10:30, he woke up at 11:45. For anyone else this would be a fairly average change to their routine, so you slept in, whoop-de-fucking-doo. 

For Reiner this was sign there was something not quite right going on. He had been feeling off-kilter since Tuesday night in the desert; maybe it was because Bertl hadn’t come round like he usually did last night; normally they would dick around and hang out together after Reiner’s dad headed out to do his night-shift, but last night he was a no-show.

Probably because he was still vomiting from his run in with Hanji and Connie, but it still bothered Reiner; he had seen Bertl drag himself over in the most dire of states, and he didn’t think last night quite qualified as the fiasco that they had both undergone at last year’s Spring Dance after letting Eren talk them both into drinking the absinthe his sister had bought at a dodgy store downtown that sold bongs and shisha and all manners of weird shit.

He decided that lying in bed musing was useless so went and took his shower, still feeling like something was wrong in his gut. He grabbed some toast and snatched up the phone, dialing the number of Bertolt’s house and waiting as it rung. 

Bertl picked up on the fourth ring.  
“Hello?” his voice was quavering as usual  
“Yo Bert, it’s Reiner, what’s up dude?”  
“Reiner! Hi man, sorry.. Sorry I couldn’t make it over last night, some pretty major family stuff happened.”  
“Yeah? Oh shit, d’you want to talk about it?”  
“Um, yes that would be awesome actually..” He trailed off in his typical way and Reiner waited for him to pick back up once he refocused on the conversation  
“I would really like to get out of the house actually, d’you want to go to the arcade or something, or the mall or-”  
Reiner cut him off there because he knew Bertl would list every damn place they hung out if he didn’t.  
“Mall sounds perfect, I’ll ring around, see if anyone else is up for hanging out”  
“Cool! Awesome! Meet you at.. Midday? Two? Th-”  
“Two is great Bert, see you then”

Reiner hung up, instantly feeling better. He had been vaguely paranoid that Bertl no longer trusted him after never confiding in him about Mylius, but now he felt back into the swing of things. He pulled out his shitty notebook of phone numbers and rang around: Armin was game to meet them, as was Marco, Mikasa said Eren wasn’t up yet but she was more than happy to come and hang out, and Krista promised she’d be there too.

Reiner told all his friends to meet at the mall by the record store that Jean was obsessed with at 2:30, because fuck it, he wanted at least a half hour of quality time with his best friend.

Bertolt waved enthusiastically until Reiner noticed him in the mall parking lot, having a cigarette in the afternoon sun. Reiner meandered over and tugged him into a brief hug, which wasn’t their typical greeting but sod that, a day was a long period of time for them to be apart. Reiner pulled back and lit his cigarette off the end of Bertl’s- he wasn’t a frequent smoker, but it was difficult to avoid picking up the habit when he spent so much time with Bertolt.  
“So, what’s shaking my man?”  
Bertl giggled at his dated slang and replied “Something’s, well not happened because that makes it sound like it was a coincidental thing, but it wasn’t I caused it, and to be completely candid I-”  
“Bert. Chill out, tell me how come you weren’t over last night” Reiner said, poking him in the ribs.  
“Alright well, I told my parents, which is to say my mother and father, no no I’m not going to ramble again, I told them I’m, well, gay. Or at least that I’ve had a boyfriend.”

Reiner drew a deep breath “That must of been scary, I’m proud of you buddy. And for what it’s worth I’d never give a damn what you do with your dick.”  
Bertl smiled at that, before sighing “That’s good to hear, my dad wasn’t quite on the same page though to be honest.”  
“Oh man Bertl..” Reiner breathed  
Bertl flailed a skinny arm around in a ‘C’est La Vie’ gesture  
“It’s cool. My mom doesn’t care or anything, it’s just a bit of a blow I guess”  
Reiner refrained from making a joke about blowing in favour of preserving his best friend’s feelings and checked his watch.

2:15, the others would be here soon.  
“Ah well, are you coming to Jean’s tonight?”  
Bertl nodded “Yeah of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.. Is everyone else..?”  
“Yep, and I said I’d meet them by that record shop near the food court so let’s get a move on huh? You might even find that Beastie Boys album you wanted”  
The lanky boy perked up at that and they started into the mall, chatting amicably. 

Twenty metres away from the store’s entrance, Bertl’s face fell and he tugged at Reiner’s elbow in a way that he probably thought was subtle before nodding towards the fountain. Reiner followed his gaze and gritted his teeth. Just as well Jean was busy setting up his place for tonight and Eren was asleep. Along the marble which bordered the fountain sat what could’ve been the entire Trost High baseball team.

Traditionally it was always the football team that were assholes, but they were all rich enough to live in Trost and hang out at the malls there so they weren’t a huge bother. The baseball team were a rung down the ladder in physical strength, but several notches above in how vicious they were to rectify that. They called Reiner’s friends faggots because of how they dressed, and Reiner’s friends called them assholes because of how they behaved.

True disaster would have struck if Jean was there, he was too controversial looking and his jeans far too tight to warrant them not trying to rip the shit out of him, and Eren was too headstrong not to go looking for a fight. 

Armin was their other favourite target, however he was too smart to get caught alone by them.

Reiner felt a sudden surge of protectiveness towards his friends, in particular Bertolt. If they found out he was gay, shit would hit the fan like no one could believe.

Reiner tried to steer his lanky companion into the store before the team noticed them, but it was too little, too late.  
“Aw look, it’s Muscles and Queer-olt!”  
That comment was met with almost hysterical laughter, despite the fact it wasn’t witty in the slightest. Reiner rolled his eyes and gave the gaggle of teenagers a wry look.  
“Shut up Hannes, don’t interrupt their first date!” shrieked a female voice, which was met with even more laughter. Reiner had to admit that one was kind of funny, but Bertl was close to hyperventilating beside him and he decided to nip this in the bud.  
“That’s hilarious guys, really. Now if you’ve finished with your little circle-jerk over there, I have an album I want to buy.” He called over, before retreating into the store with Bertl.

The girl at the counter gave them a sympathetic look as they traversed the aisles looking for a record worthy of purchase, until another commotion entirely began outside. Reiner cursed under his breath and moved towards the exit, where he could see Krista looking nervous. Looking towards the fountain he saw a sight he had become accustomed to. Marco, usually so shy, was currently nose-to-nose with Hannes yelling at him, as Mikasa dangled Keith Shadis backwards from his sitting position over the fountain with a face like thunder. 

Reiner sighed and waded in as usual. It was his unofficial role as peacekeeper which kept the group from receiving more than the odd black eye and nasty look. He tore Mikasa from Shadis, letting him plop into the fountain with a look of comical surprise on his face and grabbed Marco by the armpits and dragged him away mid-sentence.

“CALL HIM A FAG AGAIN AND I’LL FUCKING-”  
Reiner dragged Marco around to face him and gave him a stern look which cut him off and caused his blush to deepen, this time not from adrenaline but shame.  
“He threatened my little brother Reiner, that’s out of order.” Mikasa ranted, soothed only by Krista muttering some kind words and patting her shoulder gently.  
Reiner shook his head and led his little troupe of fucking idiots away, planning to kill some time in the arcade before picking up drinks and pot for Jean’s later.

JEAN’S POV

Jean loved a lot of things, he loved laughing, and dancing, and drinking, but more than anything he loved hosting these things. His parents would be absent until the following Saturday noon, and he had Sasha-proofed the kitchen, Connie-and-Eren-proofed his bedroom, and removed the gaudy low hanging lampshade in the basement for Bertolt’s benefit.

The first stream of people arrived at seven: Reiner, Bertl, Mikasa, Marco, Armin, Krista and that freckled girl who she was cosying up whose name turned out to be Ymir, all entered in high spirits before settling themselves in the lounge, cracking open beers and talking about their day at the mall. 

Jean sidled onto a loveseat next to Marco and shot him a grin,  
“So, good day?”  
“Yeah..” Marco blushed a little, accentuating his freckles “I yelled at Hannes though, you know from the baseball team?”  
“No way” Jean replied, shaking the thoughts about Marco’s freckles and how cute they are, it was weird. “What, big blonde Hannes?”  
“Yep” chirped Krista “You should’ve seen it Jean, he was so brave!”  
Marco flushed even more at the praise, his shy little smile making Jean’s heart swell a little, and not in the agonizing seizure kind of way.

The doorbell rang and Jean answered it, letting in another slew of people. Connie and Sasha seemed full of beans as usual, Eren seemed a little distracted and Annie was aloof as always. The party quickly dispersed into kids drinking on the backyard deck, others dancing in lounge and the remainder getting stoned in the basement. 

Jean opted to head to the basement tonight, hot on Connie, Sasha and Annie’s heels. Marco joined him, more out of loyalty than desire to smoke, but he started to get into the groove of things pretty quickly after the second joint was being passed around  
“Nah, nah I’m just saying,” Connie paused mid-sentence to puff and pass “If you HAD TO make love to bagel filled with shit, would you?”  
Jean cracked up at this, but Marco thought pensively before asking “Would this have any long-term effects on my health?"  
“Emotionally and psychologically yes, probably” Annie chipped in, before passing the joint to a slowly vegetating Sasha. 

The night continued on like this, until Connie and Sasha popped some uppers and went upstairs to dance, and Ymir and Krista replaced them, wrapped in each others arms and clearly tripping on something intense. Annie smoked quietly, before heading upstairs to see what Mikasa was doing. 

Jean figured if he wasn’t down here he’d be on the deck, teasing Eren and hitting on Mikasa, but instead he decided that slumping his head into Marco’s lap was a much more appealing option, and wriggled a little before glancing up. Marco’s eyes were more than a little glazed as he glanced downwards and smiled down at Jean, before starting to gently card his hand through his hair, as Jean had done to him that night in the desert. Jean lolled his head backwards into the touch, smiling tenderly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this peaceful and at one with himself, like everything had fallen into place and he was perfectly calm; he wanted to lie here for hours.

It did occur to him that his head was in his best friend’s crotch and that these benevolent caresses Marco was pushing through his hair weren’t exactly a ‘no homo’ level of intimacy, but at that moment in time, Jean just could not find it in his heart to give a damn. 


	4. Start Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special Marco POV to celebrate me writing 10,000 words in my first fic so far! Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy it c:

MARCO’S POV

Marco was awoken by the opening riff of Jean’s favourite song. He opened his eyes blearily and absorbed his surroundings: the familiarity of Jean’s room was comforting, until he realised he was currently nestled in Jean’s bed. This wasn’t his typical sleeping place in the Kirstein house, normally he rested on the spare mattress which could be pulled out from underneath the oak frame of Jean’s bed, however the warmth on the left side of him was an instant giveaway that they had slept together. Not together, Marco chided himself, just in the same bed. Very close together if the fading patch of warmth was anything to go by.

He glanced upwards, Jean was fixing his hair in the mirror, facing away from Marco.  
He was wearing those leather pants that he had fallen in love with despite the oppressive summer heat, they clung to his ass in a way that made Marco feel more than a little breathless and his torso bore no shirt to speak of.

The song continued, a Rolling Stones number which Jean gently began to sway his hips along to. Marco’s mouth immediately dried, which wasn’t helped by Jean’s movements become a more deliberate swing along to the backbeat of the track

“Start me up, if you start me up I’ll never stop” Jean crooned along in his sleep husky voice, his pelvis stirring in synchronization to the guitar’s rhythm, hands trailing through his hair in a way that made every muscle flex and ripple in his back.

Marco watched, utterly transfixed as Jean’s hips jerked to the beat in a smooth seductive rhythm. He was becoming increasingly aware of the heat pooling in his groin, but couldn’t bring himself to alert Jean of his wakefulness. 

As the song reached it’s climax, Jean sang again “You make a grown man cry-y-y-y, you make a grown man cry-y-y-y”, his voice throaty in a way that Marco could only label as sexy, his pelvis gyrating in gentle circles and hips rising transversely. 

Marco now had to address the fact that he had a just over a semi from watching his best friend fix his hair. Well, not just fix his hair, also move his body in a devastatingly sexy way which made Marco want to either die or push Jean forward and claim those hips for his own. 

The track petered out, and Marco realised that staring at Jean with an obvious erection was going to prove a problem. He snuggled back down into the sheets and snorted in a derisive manner, causing Jean to spin around and blush.

“Hah, um, you saw that?”  
“Only the last ten seconds” Marco replied dutifully “But it looked pretty funny I’ll tell you that.”  
He then curled into the foetal position, thinking of dead babies, his kindergarten teacher naked, and anything else that could help kill his boner. 

Jean squirmed, obviously a little embarrassed “Haha.. Well maybe the next time I let you sleep in my bed you’ll show a little more appreciation”  
Marco’s chest seized at that, appreciating wasn’t all he wanted to do to Jean.  
“Hah, sure whatever. What’s the time?”  
Jean cocked his head at the obvious change of topic before checking his watch, “about half eleven, I think some of the others are crashed out downstairs. Wanna go wake them?” He said that with a mischievous smirk. 

“Yeah sure,” Marco said, still keeping the covers over his lap to disguise the obvious tent in the boxers he had slept in. “Can you uh, pass my jeans?”  
Jean pulled a shirt over his head before replying “Huh? You can’t seriously be body-conscious with an ass like yours”  
Marco’s head span all over again. Jean noticed his ass? Jean devoted enough time to think about his ass to deem it nice?  
“I mean,” Jean amended, noticing his blush “It doesn’t matter, I figure there are at least four half-to-fully naked people in my house at the moment, so you would be one of many”

Marco couldn’t help but notice how red his ears were when he turned away from him to switch off his record player and head downstairs. He decided his dick had calmed down to an adequate degree to slide out of bed, grateful to at least still be wearing his t-shirt from the previous evening, before following Jean and thinking about every possible thing besides how gorgeous, seductive and shameless Jean had looked dancing along to the Rolling Stones. 

 

CONNIE’S POV

Connie had been awake for ten minutes, but had neither the heart nor means to move. He was lying on the floor of Jean’s lounge, across a rug which proved less and less comfortable the longer he was roused from sleep. 

The reason he didn’t simply get up and go for a nice session of wake and bake was Sasha. She was lying with her head in the crook of his neck, gentle puffs of air she exhaled gusting against his collarbone. His arm was splayed out behind her, and his other wrapped around her supple waist, his legs entwined with hers. 

The only odd thing about this situation to Connie was that it didn’t feel odd. Sure, he and Sasha wrestled and danced and poked and teased together, but despite their long-stretching friendship they had never shared a moment as.. Intimate? Yeah, he thought, intimate was definitely the word for this. 

Her hair smelled sweet and smoky as it tickled against his nose, Sasha mumbling in her sleep and shifting so even more of her weight rested on Connie’s abdomen, and he felt a rush of affection for his wonderful, retarded, and now he looked closely, very pretty best friend. 

Connie turned as he heard a pair of heavy footsteps tramp down the stairs and Eren’s voice call out “Yo, you finally slid your dicks out of eachothers asses, great. How do you use this fucking grill Jean?”  
Connie sighed and buried his head in Sasha’s hair, not ready for the jarring transition between the simple poignant moment he had just had and stopping Jean wedging a frying pan in Eren’s solar plexus.  
“Fuck you Jaeger!” He heard Jean’s voice and a commotion erupt from the kitchen.  
Sasha stirred then and mumbled “Connie? Wassappening?”

He patted her head soothingly “Nothing Sash, it’s just that all our friends are retarded douchebags”  
“Oh, so nothing then” She murmured, pushing her face back into his neck and breathing deeply a few times before suddenly sitting up and stretching.  
“C’mon Cons, a woman’s gotta eat!” She said chipperly before vanishing out of the door.

Connie groaned a little before standing unsteadily and working the cricks out of his back before following suit. The kitchen looked like a fucking warzone. Connie had thought Jean and Eren had gone an unusually long amount of time without trying to tear each other's heads off, and had put it down to new-found maturity. He should have known better. 

Marco gazed on at the chaos with a disapproving look on his face as Jean chased Eren around the kitchen table, cutting him off at every turn and looking determined to deck him with the saucepan he wielded, whilst Eren held him off, dodging and mocking him with his superior agility and mop he had acquired. Sasha was raiding the fridge and occasionally shouting them helpful advice like ‘Aim for his knees’ or ‘don’t just hold the pan, BE the pan’.

Connie groaned for what felt like the six millionth time over the last two days, before setting to work, tackling Eren from behind and sitting on his head until he promised to stop being such an angsty douchebag  
“I promise to stop being such an angsty douchebag, fucking hell Connie get off I think you’re gonna break my head open”  
He got off, before taking the mauled saucepan from Jean and giving everyone looks that let them know they should be very ashamed of themselves. 

Jean did in fact get the grill working, and the rest of the houses’ occupants drifted in as the scent of bacon wafted its way around. Ymir and Krista were still apparently joined at the hip as they sat together eating and shooting each other private little smiles. Connie ate with gusto, laughing about the escapades of last night with Reiner and Armin, reflecting on the typical escalation of ‘dares’. Mikasa and Annie had made out twice, to Eren’s horror, who had subsequently had to streak down the road without a stitch on him. Armin had swapped underwear with Sasha, and privately told Connie she still wasn’t letting them switch back, which he howled with laughter at and immediately told everyone within earshot. 

EREN’S POV

Jean began ushering people out of his house by half-past twelve and considering Mikasa had driven home early in the morning, Eren was stuck tramping home in the blistering midday heat with a hangover which burned acidically in his temples and stomach. 

He probably shouldn’t have got so blitzed last night, but even after the most part of a bottle of Jack Daniels and a naked jog down the street he still felt his attention being dragged elsewhere. Elsewhere, to Levi. 

Eren could not stop thinking about him. How he had blown off Eren’s thanks, and his disgusting manners. Also his stunning profile and the curve of his hips into his ass, but that was besides the point. Levi was a little shit. 

He walked quick and got home by one o’clock, stepping into the shower and scrubbing himself thoroughly, as if jasmine scented shower gel could remove the cloying burn in his gut. Then he changed into what he had designated his ‘work clothes’. A simple black button-up and dark jeans, plus a pair of army surplus boots he had borrowed from Annie months ago and she had never reminded him to return. 

He tramped downstairs, checking the note that was left on the table. It read:

Eren, gone out for the night, drive yourself to work. Also, bought you some tobacco. It’s on the side. Stop stealing mine you little bastard. - Love Mikasa  
P.S. It cost me two dollars, you’re paying me back.

Eren picked up the pouch of tobacco, he didn’t mind roll ups, but he sincerely doubted it had cost her more than a dollar. But oh well, what the hell. He fixed himself up some lunch and coasted through the cartoons showing on TV until four came around.

He felt shaky at the prospect of seeing Levi again, the short man eating away at his mind constantly. He was an enigma: where did he live? What did he do for fun? Was he straight?  
Eren decided to leave it another half hour before heading off; he didn’t want to look at all eager to see the man who had piqued his interest to such a distracting degree.

He eventually began making his way to The Pirripin at quarter to five, smoking a poorly-rolled cigarette out of the car window as he meandered his way downtown. Eren parked in the spot two down from a familiar Honda Civic and crushed out his cigarette before entering through the back door. Whatever entrance he was hoping to make was immediately ruined as he walked straight into Levi, who collided with him making a soft ‘uft’ sound in surprise  
“Oi, watch where you’re going, shitty brat”  
“Really, you aren’t done with that fucking nickname?”  
“Never will be” He replied, shooting Eren a crooked smirk and popping the trunk of his car to pull out some bottles of tequila. “The boss needed some inventory done, turns out this is the only thing we’re low on.”

Eren nodded dumbly, avoiding watching how Levi’s AC/DC shirt had ridden up at the back to expose his pale skin, the ridges of his spine and tightly muscled abdomen were painfully obvious to him as he moved inside to shake his head and work himself out of the funk he had been stewing in for the last few days. 

“So, brat” Eren jumped as Levi’s voice materialised from just behind his ear “Try not to fuck up tonight, hm?”  
“I didn’t fuck up last night!” Eren snapped in return, “I did perfectly well thank you very much, I only dropped a glass when I didn’t notice you standing right in front of me, which is easy to do when your co-worker is the size of most thirteen-year-old girls!”  
“Trust me you little douche, you have more in common than I do with a thirteen-year-old girl” Levi replied before moving past him to put the tequila bottles in position.  
Eren rose to the insult, as he had since the day he was born. “Oh yeah? Like what, you littl-”  
“Your virginity for starters.”  
Eren spluttered, “I am not a virgin!”  
“Sure you are,” Levi looked up at him through his dark fringe with mesmerising pewter eyes “No one who’s had their cherry popped is that much of a little bitch”

Eren turned around and began determinedly lathering the bar top with a sponge and cleaning fluid, refusing to let Levi bait him any longer.  
“Hmm, reckon you’re a bottom and all you know brat”  
“Excuse me? Bottom? I’m not a faggot you know, fucking midget” Eren’s temper was really getting the better of him now, he thought after spending the last forty-eight hours thinking about Levi would make him less of an incorrigible douche, but alas no. Now he was calling Eren a homo.

He was so absorbed in being annoyed that he didn’t even have time to gasp when Levi seized him by the collar and slammed him backwards into the bar. Eren was taken aback by the small man’s strength, and by the malevolence in his eyes when he spat out “Well this fucking midget is, do you have a problem with that, shitty little brat? Do you think I’m less of a person because of where I like to put my cock? Huh?”  
Eren swallowed and realized how what he said must have sounded to Levi, and instantly felt ashamed. He wrapped his hands around Levi’s wrists which pinned his chest back against the bar and stared straight into his eyes, putting every ounce of feeling he could into his next words.  
“No. I really, really don’t.” His voice cracked a little but he kept his eyes trained on the slate abysses which composed Levi’s irises.  
Levi’s grip slackened and he stared back, comprehending Eren’s words before releasing him. 

Their night continued with little communication, the Friday night crowd were rowdy and demanding and every time Eren glanced over at Levi he was either dealing with a customer or appeared deep in thought. It was a little unnerving, but at least Eren didn’t have to deal with any distractions as he dealt with the punters, faces and voices, songs and orders all blurring into a single miasma of colour and noise. It was three in the morning before Levi locked up, and Eren felt worse than he had on his first shift, groping for a cigarette before realising he would have to sit down and roll one. 

He leant against the wall which the back door was situated on and gently creased the paper around and filter, pleased with his progress until the breeze picked up and blew every last strand of tobacco out.  
“Oh fuck you!” Eren hung his head in defeat, wanting nothing more than to retreat home to his bed.  
A chuckle came from further down the wall as Levi emerged from the back door, watching his dispirited outburst. “There there brat. Here.” Levi handed him one of his own cigarettes before leaning against the wall beside him and lighting one of his own. 

Eren didn’t have the energy to lash out at being called brat again, and instead just smoked his cigarette and looked over to Levi, captivated all over again by his regal features.  
“Go home, get some sleep” Levi advised, hopping into his Honda before glancing up.  
“Oh, and are you busy tomorrow night?”

“N-no, why?” Eren replied, too fucking tired to see where this exchange was going  
“Neither am I. I’ll pick you up at eight.”  
And with that he simply drove away, leaving Eren to put the pieces together in his mind.


	5. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little chapter, only from Jean's POV because I have a gratuitous amount of shit I have to do.  
> As ever, I hope you enjoy it! :)

JEAN’s POV

Jean had planned on spending his Saturday almost exclusively lazing around. This plan didn’t deviate much when Marco came over, bringing snacks and a tape he had made last night, which Jean thought was heartbreakingly sweet, in a macho, no homo kind of way.

They sat in Jean’s room, not smoking or getting shitfaced which was a refreshing change of pace for their gradually more and more nihilistic lifestyle, just talking about movies they wanted to see and what they wanted to do after high school. Jean himself had no fucking clue, but Marco had his heart set on becoming an illustrator, or maybe just an author, which he admitted with a blush which damn near stopped Jean’s heart.

He knew he needed to address his feelings for Marco at some point, when Jean was drunk or stoned it was easy to brush off the blurring lines of friendship to something else entirely as him being his typical over-friendly inebriated self, but sitting here at 3 o’clock on a Saturday, stone cold sober it was agonisingly obvious that everything he felt for his sweet, freckled little friend ran a lot deeper than typical good friends.

Jean watched the quirk of his friend’s cupids bow lips and felt a tug in his gut unlike anything he had ever endured before, it wasn’t pure want either. He wanted to make Marco feel as giddy and happy as he made him feel, but he wasn’t sure how. Any advance on his part could spoil everything, so he mentally checked himself into a mode of ‘back off’ and let it be. 

Outside a dusky lieu had settled, and Marco decided he wanted a walk in the park. Jean was practically unable to deny him anything he wanted, so to the park they walked, arms gently brushing each others as they walked in step. Jean didn’t know how to feel about that either, but again tucked it into the box of ‘things he wasn’t going to think about’.

They wandered to the dilapidated swings and sat, Jean gently skidding his feet along the grass to fill the silence which had woven its way in their company.

“So, I got asked on a date earlier” Marco said plainly. Jean’s gut whirled in a way that he didn’t even know it could.

“Yeah?” He faked casual “By who?”

“Remember that girl you mentioned the other day? Mina? Yeah, she just called up my house and said she thought we should get together sometime.”

Jean genuinely thought he was going to vomit. However that wouldn’t have fit his persona of ‘casual’ at all, so he just focused on the sunset, watching the beams of amber being vanquished by the horizon and smothered by the mauve sky above. Just how he was going to fucking smother Mina. No it just wasn’t enough that she had to get his virginity, now she had to drag Marco away from him too. Make him suffer through her intolerable giggling and stupidity and-

“I don’t think I’m going to say yes”

Marco broke through his inner monologue and turned towards him, face only illuminated by the fading sunlight. He looked so innocent and honest Jean thought he might actually cry out to God why all of his stupid goddamn creations couldn’t all be as meek and perfect as Marco.

“Oh? How come?” Jean fought the quaver that wanted to wheedle it’s way into his voice.

“Well” Marco shifted uncomfortably “Don’t be weirded out but.. I don’t think I like her. Or girls, in general”

It felt like the world had just spiralled out from beneath Jean’s feet. Marco, gay? Not just something vague and cherishable, but something he could actually tangibly have?

“So, you’re gay?” The quaver defeated him, making the word ‘gay’ come out in something closer to soprano than speech.

“I, uh, guess so yeah.. There is a boy, that I like” Marco spoke slowly, obviously choosing his words with the utmost of care “He doesn’t know though, and he’s straight”

And the world spiralled a little further. Marco didn’t like Jean. Marco liked some awful douchebag who was going to break his heart and embarrass him in front of the baseball team, and Jean hated the faceless man, who was also taller than him probably.

“Oh, well. I wish you two the best of luck” Jean cringed at how stilted his words sounded even to himself.

“No Jean, you don’t get it” Marco pushed.

Jean fucking got it, alright, and he was fucking pissed about it. The blood rushed to his head in the way it always did before he did something ridiculous and potentially life-ruining.

“No, I do. I hope you and whatever his name is are really fucking happy together”

And with that he was off, running towards that horizon, hoping that maybe the embers of the dying sunlight would take pity on him and snatch him off the earth to somewhere kinder where pretty boys with freckles didn’t ruin his life. The wind almost snatched away the words that Marco screamed to him.

“HIS FUCKING NAME WAS JEAN, BUT NEVER FUCKING MIND.”

Jean slowed to a jog and stopped. He had never heard Marco’s voice so wrecked, and his heart felt like a jackhammer lodged in his ribcage as he turned back to the swings.

And Marco was gone.

He squinted, but there was no sign of him around the swings just over two hundred metres away. Jean felt all the blood in his body freeze to the point it just felt like molten flesh being pumped around his veins. He turned back to the sun but all the light was gone, so he ran home, not letting any of the regret or stupidity of his words catch up to him. He had left his front door unlocked and he bolted up to his room, only half-hearing his parents’ calls of concern.

Out of habit Jean hit play on his shitty cassette player and collapsed into his desk chair, breathing hard. Marco’s tape was still in the machine, and the final song on the B-side began.

It was ‘Alone’, that stupid fucking song by Heart for which Marco had always had a soft spot. The chorus kicked in and Jean lashed his leg out, not even caring when the chair toppled over and he landed in a heap, forearm across his eyes and the lyrics of the song raking over him like nails

_‘Til now I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met you’_

He choked back a sob, not just wallowing but drowning in how badly he had fucked up.

The verse came in then and he began to cry earnestly.

_‘You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight, you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight’_

Tears of frustration streamed down Jean’s face and he barked back a bitter laugh at the irony. He had come so close to getting everything he had ever wanted; Marco’s words still echoed in his head ‘ _Never fucking mind_ ’. How could he ‘ _never fucking mind_ ’ when it came to him?

_‘but the secret is still my own, and my love for you is still unknown, alone’_

Jean lay there until the tape ran off into static.


	6. Hold It, Now Hit It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a longer chapter! Thank you for any and all support for this fic, I am absolutely overjoyed by every comment, kudos and hit :) As ever, I hope you enjoy it. <3

REINER’S POV

Saturday morning Reiner woke up at exactly 10:30 and knew everything was re-aligned in his universe. He couldn’t be bothered with having a wank, so he hopped straight into the shower and sighed in relief as the scalding water un-knotted the tense cluster of muscles in his shoulders. 

He couldn’t help but think life was pretty sweet at the moment, college wasn’t for another year, he had some cool friends and he had made things up with Bertolt, even though he wasn’t sure what had been amiss in the first place. Reiner went for his regular jog, twice around the block then to the park and back, before making himself a killer breakfast of peanut butter and bagels. 

Out of habit he called Bertl to ask what he was doing today.  
“Yo Bertl Turtle!”  
He could practically feel Bertolt’s narrowed eyes down the phone. Turns out Bertl wasn’t a great fan of turtles, but Reiner had to suffer the ‘Rudolf the red-nosed Reiner-deer’ pun six months a year so he would have to suck up and deal with it. 

“Hey Rein, what’s up?”  
“Not much, just wondering what you’re doing today?”  
“Hmmm I called Marco but he’s going over to Jean’s for the day-”  
“Oo-er” Reiner cut in  
“-and I don’t really feel like the mall again after, y’know-”  
“Yep I know Bertie. Do you want to just go hang out at Annie’s?”

Bertolt paused, mulling over the plan.  
“Yeah sure why not.. What’s with the oo-er comment?”  
Reiner rolled his eyes at nothing in particular.  
“My dearest little turtle, you may have slipped under my gaydar but not even a blind man could miss how much those two moon over each other”  
“You think so?”  
“A blind man with sensory deprivation. And a blind seeing-eye dog.”  
“I don’t think it would be responsible to give a blind sense deprived man a blind dog-”  
At that point Reiner just hung up because there was only so much dork he could deal with at this time in the morning.

By midday he was walking to Annie’s, who lived just around the corner from him and equidistantly from Bertolt’s. They knew this because one time Connie and Sasha had one of their patented ‘I’m really fucking stoned let’s do science’ moments and decided to tie one end of string to Reiner and one to Bertolt and see what happened. 

They both made it as far as their front doors before they realised they were on a leash, but hey the more you know right. 

Reiner didn’t even bother knocking and just wandered into the Leonhart household, finding Annie and Bertl sitting on the couch and an eccentric-looking woman in glasses was gesticulating so hard with her arms Bertl actually looked kind of worried they would spontaneously dislocate. 

“And that is how biometrics will change the world!”  
In a grand finale the woman threw her arms out, catching Reiner with a glancing blow to the stomach as he entered the room.  
“Hey Reiner” Annie said warmly (well as warmly as Annie did anything), and Bertl just looked relieved to have someone relatively sane in the room with him.

“Hi! My name’s Hanji!” The ludicrously enthusiastic woman offered her hand in greeting, and Reiner shook it, smiling as placatingly as he could in hope she wouldn’t hit him again. Reiner was a big guy and all, but that swing had some weight behind it and he didn’t enjoy being in more pain than necessary.

“I’m Reiner, as you probably heard”  
“Yes, yes.. I think we met a few nights ago actually, at the bonfire? You were the guy who wouldn’t stop calling Erwin ‘Mr Eyebrows’ right?”  
Reiner groaned into his hands “I don’t even remember saying that out loud!”  
Bertl giggled “You did better than Armin, they got talking and Erwin said he was gonna join the military. He had called him ‘Captain Handsome’ four times before Krista told him it wasn’t his internal voice he was using”

Reiner guffawed at that, before taking a second to think. Was Armin straight? Ever since his best friend had came out with no prior warning, he had started analysing all the other people he thought of as heterosexual. 

Marco and Jean were an obvious no- friends didn’t hang on each other’s every word like that, and Reiner had personally witnessed them cuddling in the basement when they thought Ymir and Krista were passed out. 

Connie was straight in his mind, as was everyone else, but he had never seen Armin as much as kiss a girl. Nor Eren actually, but he hotly maintained that he had fooled around with people at parties, which in Reiner’s mind sounded suspiciously like bullshit.

He disconnected these thoughts and tried to hone back in on the conversation at hand.  
“Yeah, I’m an old friend of the owner, plus the bar staff and even one of the bouncers: I figure I can get all you guys in. It’s a pretty sweet joint I’ll be honest, no watered-down beer, good music, and Bertie will love it because almost everyone who walks through those doors bats for the other team” Hanji concluded, shooting a grin at Bertl who turned so pink Reiner thought his head might explode.

“Where is this place?” Reiner asked, trying to make sense of the words he was hearing.  
“The Pirripin? Downtown? It’s a nice little place, now and then some shitheads turn up and try and start some bible-bashing lynch mob, but that gets dealt with with no brutality spared” Hanji smiled a little wistfully “One time one of the bar staff, and I shit you not this guy is like five foot nothing, kicked a man square in the head. He literally jumped three foot in the air, I have never seen a thing so majestic since.”

Bertl looked a little comforted at the thought of high-jumping ninja midgets defending his honour and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like to go a place like that.”  
Annie corroborated “Same here, I figure Mikasa and Armin will too, plus Baldy, Hungry, Angry and the two who eye-fuck all the time”

“Jean and Marco?” Reiner asked  
“Yep”  
“Thank you!” He leaned over Bertl and high-fived her “I knew it wasn’t just seeing things, say Bertl can you hear something ringing?”  
Bertolt looked confused “No?”  
“Well you should because _I fucking called it! _”__

Hanji cracked up at that, whilst Annie and Bertl just sighed and wondered why they had ever thought Reiner was cool. 

“So it’s decided” Hanji rubbed her hands together “I’m sneaking all of you little vagabonds in, and don’t any of you go backing out now!”  
The bespectacled oddity that was Hanji then promptly left, the skidding of her scooter audible through in the house.

“I think tomorrow is gonna be cool” Annie mused gently, lighting a cigarette and disappearing off to make a cup of tea. 

EREN’S POV

By three-thirty, Eren decided he needed to get out of the house. He had been up since nine, agonising over what to wear to see Levi tonight; was it a date? Should he dress smart? Should he do the opposite to exude an aura of ‘wow like I give a damn’ to impress Levi? Eren was absolutely fucking stumped. 

He walked to Armin’s, Armin always knew what to do. He knocked his typical four times and waited.  
“Hey Eren!” Armin opened the door, smiling broadly “What’s up?”  
Eren shrugged, “Kind of need some advice on.. A thing”  
“Oooooh a thing? Come on up buddy.”

They scaled the narrow stairs, Armin’s house was even smaller than the Jaeger’s place, but it originally only housed his grandfather so the lack of space was to be expected. Armin’s parents had died in a plane crash en route home from Asia, he had only been two years old at the time, and always said ‘he couldn’t exactly miss what he never had’. That made Eren sad, because despite his mother’s tragic death, his dad was at least still around. Not around-around, but alive. 

Armin had been raised solely by his grandpa since, who was a kind but doddery old man. His room was always way tidier than Eren’s, and they sat on the bed together, Armin looking inquisitively at him.

“So? What’s the thing?”  
“Well..” Eren immediately felt nervous and decided to tell the story right from the beginning. “Well you know I started working at that bar, right?” Armin gave an affirmative nod. “There’s this guy I work with. He’s kind of an ass, but I think deep down he’s pretty nice really. Like he gave me a ride home and stuff when I was stuck, and gave me a cigarette when it was too windy for me to roll one-” Armin gave him the look that said ‘you’re rambling something intense here Eren’ and he cut to the point. 

“So last night basically, he asked if I was busy tonight and I said no and he goes ‘me neither, I’ll pick you up at eight’. He’ll pick me up at eight, but for what? Is it like a date, or are we hanging out, or-”

“Eren.” He stopped babbling at Armin’s interjection. “Do you.. Like this guy?” he asked with a grin.  
“I..” Eren thought back to the two previous times he had met Levi. He was rude, blunt and sometimes aggressive. But he was also kind, and funny when he wanted to be, and attractive. So attractive it made Eren’s throat tighten.

“I do, yeah. I don’t know if he likes me though, he’s what, five years older than me and insanely hot-” Eren backpedalled “-pretend I didn’t just say insanely hot. This is weird though, I seriously did think I was straight but I just hadn’t found the right girl for me yet.”

Armin had the fucking nerve to giggle. “Eren you do like him! It’s sweet, seeing you blush like a goddamn freshman over this guy. I think even if tonight isn’t a date, you should take the initiative and damn well make it one.”

Eren’s frayed nerves felt salved by his words, and thanked every deity he could think of that his best friend was the most level-headed person in the universe. He headed home at five, deciding not to eat, if on the off-chance Levi was hoping to sweep him off somewhere for dinner. 

He decided on a nice middle ground between classy and casual, wearing some nice-ish jeans, a clean t-shirt under a crisp green over-shirt, he burned the crap out of his hand with the iron in the process of making it crisp, and a pair of sneakers which weren’t covered in shit or smelled just a teensy bit like vomit. 

Eren decided to be daring and borrowed Mikasa’s bomber jacket before settling on the couch, putting active thought into not fixing his hair. He had to try and be a little stand-offish at least when it came to Levi. 

By seven-thirty he was almost vibrating out of his skin with excitement and anxiety. Seven-forty-five took a genuine eternity to roll around, despite Eren’s attempts at distracting himself with a re-run of Dallas.

At five to eight, the growl of an engine sounded from outside and Eren all but leapt from the couch to answer the knock at the door. He opened it, smiling at Levi who was on the other side.

Levi looked close to breath-taking as always. His jeans looked sprayed on as usual and he had donned his leather jacket over a button-up, almost as if he psychically knew how much Eren liked the look of him in it.  
“Evening brat”  
“Hello to you too, asshole” Eren replied with a smile.

Levi looked close to taken-aback by Eren’s sass and smirked in return. “Looks like kitty does have some claws after all. Come on, it’s a saturday night and Alien is playing down at the drive-in back-to-back with The Exorcist. Figure you can handle it?”

Privately deep down Eren really really fucking hated horror films. They made his skin crawl and his heart beat out an awful anxious rhythm throughout, he only ever really watched them when Jean goaded him into it, calling him a pussy and asking him if he was going to piss himself. The great irony of course was that at every jump-scare, Jean would squeal and try not to outwardly look like he was trying to bury his head into Marco’s neck. He wasn’t very good at it. 

But Eren was determined not to appear childish in front of Levi and grinned with hoped he looked like confidence “Of course!”

Levi smirked all over again and opened the door of his Honda to let Eren climb in before moving around the bonnet to take his own seat. It was surprisingly gentlemanly for a guy who had the manners of a spastic labrador. 

“So,” Eren began, “Good day?”  
“Hm, fine. Pretty boring. Mostly just got annoying calls from Hanji about a bunch of her annoying new friends coming to the bar tomorrow night, and then spent a while dismantling my phone so she physically had to stop calling.”  
It was deadpan but Eren had to giggle a little. He could remember Hanji from the other night, vaguely. “Is Hanji the one with the glasses and the um, excitable nature?”  
“She’s a specky git with ADHD, yes.”

“Ah, yeah I met her a couple nights ago. Where I met Erwin actually and he set me up working at The Pirripin.”  
“I know, I heard. Hanji’s been calling him either ‘Mr Eyebrows’ or ‘Captain Handsome’ ever since. She finds your friends fucking hilarious.”

Eren smiled a little at that, if their friends got along, there was no reason why he couldn’t invite Levi out places right?  
They pulled into the lot at that point, the first film already beginning. Levi had been prepared and brought along a blanket to spread across the hood of his car so they could recline with more ease.

“Put your head or elbow through my windshield and I’ll fucking kill you kid” Levi warned, as they sat back to watch Alien.  
Eren narrowed his eyes in objection to being called ‘kid’. He was a goddamn grown up, or at least he was mostly. Still, it was better than ‘brat’ and definitely better than ‘shitty brat’.

Eren couldn’t help but jump like a little bitch at every shocking moment, feeling embarrassed as Levi sat still as a statue, occasionally leaning across to make comments in his ear about the special effects.

The 117 minutes of gruesome space death passed quickly, Eren actually getting into the groove of the film after a while and accidentally-on-purpose wriggling closer to Levi. There was a ten minute break between films, so they wandered over to the refreshments counter to grab a drink and some snacks.  
“I’ll have a pepsi and a small popcorn please” Eren ordered, smiling at the teenager behind the counter who looked agonisingly bored.  
“That’ll be three dollars twenty.” He deadpanned in reply.  
Eren went to pull out his wallet but Levi caught his arm and shook his head, paying the money plus a tip.

“You didn’t need to do that, I-”  
“My treat Eren.” Levi cut him off, and his head almost caved in at hearing Levi use his name.  
“Levi-” he started, then hesitated, suddenly feeling very small and naive. “Is this.. A date?”

Levi cocked his head and smiled at him. Not a smirk, or a smug shit-eating smile like Eren was used to but a genuine one. A small, soft little flicker of emotion across a usually slate-blank face. Eren felt his heart go into triple time, trying to memorise the exact curve of Levi’s lips. He then turned around, completely ruining the moment and hopped back on the bonnet. He scooted over and Eren clambered up too, much less elegantly. 

The movie began and somewhere between the opening credits and the fucking scary-ass little kid killing a priest, Levi’s arm had ended up slung over Eren’s shoulder totally rectifying the moment as his fingertips gently brushed Eren’s inner forearm in a repetitive pattern.

Eren leant his head into Levi’s, feeling oddly at ease as he watched the other priest chuck himself out of a window. The film wound up okay and Levi stretched his back, before disembarking from the car’s bonnet. 

He looked at Eren as he joined him in the car on shotgun “I’ll drop you home. Something tells me tomorrow is going to be exhausting.” His tone was as bland as always but his eyes glinted with something like affection.

The drive home was quiet, both of the smoking out their respective windows and thinking to themselves. Levi pulled up and walked him to the door.  
“Well I guess I’ll see you at work br- Eren.” Levi looked at him once more and Eren realised that if he didn’t tilt his head downwards and kiss him, he would regret it for the rest of his life and potentially even future reincarnations of Eren would resent him for it. 

So he did, his mouth gently brushing against Levi’s and for a moment he physically ached. He was so close and intimate and then Levi kissed him back and the entire world went fuzzy around the edges. The kissed chastely for a few more seconds, before Levi leant backwards and gave him another smile which Eren suspected could end wars when utilized correctly.

Then he lent in once more for another kiss and then out of nowhere _bit the fuck down on Eren’s lip _.__

He exclaimed in pain and brought a fingertip up to his lower lip, seeing crimson blood as he pulled away, “What the-”  
Eren's protests were cut off by another kiss from the smaller man who then chuckled in a way that make shivers run down his spine and sauntered back to his car, shooting him a wink before he drove away.

Eren was literally rooted to the fucking spot. _Well, alrighty then _he thought to himself.__


	7. Call Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the somewhat delayed update, but hey, look at all these big-ass chapters.  
> This one is just from Connie's POV because he's a rad little dude who never gets enough love in my mind..  
> As always, feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoy it! c:

CONNIE’S POV

Connie absentmindedly hummed along to the radio as he made himself some popcorn, deciding that it was an adequate substitute for breakfast/lunch. He had slept clean through the breakfast hours of the day, and decided that popcorn was the most nutritious thing in the house to be eating at two in the afternoon. 

He lived with his elder brother Leo in a fairly run-down bungalow in the outskirts of downtown Stohess, and neither of them were big on groceries. Their parents had moved up the country last year, Connie had been offered the option to live with his brother and jumped at the chance.

Leo was twenty-two now, and had a steady job in Trost dealing with a chain of mechanical workshops; Sure, Connie missed his mom and dad occasionally, but he really did love the benefits of living essentially as he pleased. 

Leo was currently at his girlfriends’ place in Trost, so Connie had the house to himself as he sashayed around in his boxers to Starship. 

He was enjoying his freedom so much the phone almost rang off before he had a chance to pick up.  
“Yo, Springer residence!”  
“Hey, it’s Annie.”  
“Oh, h-hey Annie, how’s it going?”

Connie liked Annie, he really did, but that girl was crazy intimidating and constantly insisted she was taller than him, which was obviously a load of horseshit. 

“Not much, wanna come downtown tonight? Hanji, you remember her right?”

He internally groaned. Crazy shots lady had been a hella lot of fun at the time, but Connie doubted even a liver as resilient as his could stand another night of drinking at her pace.

“Uh, yeah, from the other night out in the Sonoran right?”  
“That’s the one. So yeah she reckons she can get us into a relatively cool bar seeing as she claims to know pretty much everyone who works there. Fancy coming?”  
“Hmm, yeah that sounds pretty sweet actually, who else is coming?”  
“Bertolt and Reiner have said yes, and I decided to delegate the job of ringing everyone else to you. Come by mine at seven and we can all carpool down.”

She rather curtly disconnected at that and Connie rolled his eyes before dialling Sasha’s number first, seeing as it was the only one he knew off by heart.  
“Hello?”  
“Hey Sash”  
“Yo Cons! What’s up man? But make it quick because I don’t want my toast to burn”

Connie giggled a little at that, typical fucking Sasha.

“Alright alright your highness, wanna come downtown tonight? That nutty chick with the glasses who made me do all those shots is offering to get us in somewhere cool”  
“She didn’t make you, you challenged her!”  
“She made me do it by accepting the challenge, it’s all relative Sash.”  
“Hmmm whatever, but sure I’d love to come!”

Her sunny disposition was radiant even down a phone’s receiver, Connie had never known anyone who could make him feel good about anything and everything like she did just by being herself.

“Rad, come by Annie’s for seven, we’re all heading down then.. Mind calling a few other people and letting them know after your toast is done?”  
“Of course, I’ve got Armin, Krista and Marco’s numbers right here-”

She was cut off mid-stream by a gasp

“Toast is done, bitch! I’ve gotta go, see you later!”

Connie chuckled again at that and mentally figured out that he would have to only have to call Jean and the Jaegers now, which was ideal because his brother would fucking murder him if he racked up an enormous phone bill.

He rifled around the cabinet draws until he found the ragged scraps of paper with his friends numbers written on them. He found Eren’s before Jean’s, so he quickly punched in the numbers and hoped they weren’t so badly smudged by wear and tear that he would end up inviting some poor old lady to a bar with him.

“Hello, who is this please?”

He let out a silent cheer when Mikasa’s voice sounded down the line.

“Que pasa Mi-casa?”  
“Dammit Connie.”  
“Haha, but seriously we’re all going downtown tonight, do you and Eren want to come?”  
“Wait is this the Hanji-arranged outing?”

Connie gave an affirmative ‘uh huh’.

“Oh, well yeah sure, Annie already asked me about it. We’re going to the bar where Eren works now, so he’ll be there but on the clock.”  
“Wow, that’s a bummer.. But ah well, so I guess you know to be at Annie’s for seven?”  
“Yep, see you then”  
“Adios Mi-”

She hung up on him at that point. What was with his female friends and doing that?  
Finally Connie rang Jean after a long deliberation over whether the last digit he had penned down for his number was a seven, one, or smeared chunk of garlic bread.  
He decided it was a seven, and a pleasant female voice answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Kirstein household?”  
“Hi, is Jean there?”  
“Yes he’s in his room, I’ll fetch him now.”

There was a brief few seconds of scuffling before Jean’s voice was audible.

“Marco?”  
“Um, that’s a no dude.”

Connie could practically hear the deflation in Jean’s voice.

“Oh, hey Connie. What do you want?  
“Wow nice to talk to you too Horseface. I was just calling to ask if you were interested in hanging out tonight? Downtooooown? 

He stretched to ‘o’ teasingly, he knew Jean loved bars and clubs and practically anywhere he could drink, dance and feel like an adult.

“Uh, no sorry man. I’m just really not in the mood right now. I have to go, bye.”

Apparently it was not just Connie’s female friends who were rude as fuck on the phone. He returned the phone to its holster and mused as he crunched down the popcorn. 

Jean had sounded pretty sad on the phone. Not even sad actually, just defeated, which was odd because Connie had seen Jean sad before plenty of times; but he was a passionate kind of sad person, dramatic and grief-stricken, not hollow and drained. 

It played on his mind as he ate before he shrugged off the thoughts, vowing to visit Jean tomorrow and pull him out of this funk, by his own volition or not. Connie could be a force to be reckoned with when it came to cheering people up, once going as far as mooning an entire science class plus teacher just to make Eren stop sulking about a cussing-match with Jean he had lost. 

After a quick shower he killed time reading some Teen Titans comics that he had convinced Bertolt into lending him. By half-six Connie was going a little stir-crazy and decided to take a meandering route down to Annie’s, which he grossly underestimated and ended up getting there fifteen minutes late. He gently booted the front door and entered, knowing his way around the place well enough to be confident the door wouldn’t be locked. 

He strolled into the living room, grinning at Sasha who sat smooshed on the couch between Reiner and Bertl, breaking off their animated conversation to beckon him over. Connie slumped across all three of them, not really listening to their conversation about Dungeons & Dragons. 

Annie sauntered in with Hanji mere moments before Connie disintegrated from the sheer nerdiness he was being exposed to on this sofa, and was grateful from the distraction as the conversation above him became Bertl vivaciously protesting that Gwen Stacy wasn't going to return to Spider-Man comics, Reiner countering that now her clone was around there was no telling what would happen, and Sasha firmly saying that she was ‘Team MJ all the way’.

“Hey losers, c’mon we’re driving downtown.” Annie stated flatly, which gave everyone the incentive to squirm off their respective couches and pile once more into Bertl’s truck. 

Because Reiner had the average shoulder-width of two teenagers he automatically earned shotgun, so the rest of the gang had to crowd in the back. Mikasa, Annie and Hanji took up one side and Krista, Armin and Marco the other. 

Connie and Sasha were automatically delegated ‘floor position’, at Bertolt and Reiner (but mostly Reiner’s) insistence that they should suffer for their crimes against the truck after they chalked it up on the final day of the summer semester with lurid drawings of dicks and several not-very-nice allusions towards Hannes and the baseball team.

They were all accurate in Connie’s mind, but apparently it still counted as disrespecting the truck so on the floor of the trailer he sat, with Sasha’s back against his chest and body between his splayed legs. The vehicle clattered and swayed as they set off, conversation light and easy until Armin glanced around and asked “Hey, where’s Jean?”

Annie stared down at Connie. “I thought I asked you to ring everyone?”  
“Hold up, I did! Jean said he didn’t feel like coming out tonight” he answered primly, very much enjoying Annie having no reason to pull a bitch-face at him.  
Armin cocked his head thoughtfully “That doesn’t sound like Jean at all.. Do you think he’s sick?”

Connie shrugged, “He sounded a little off on the phone, so yeah maybe.” and left it at that.  
The topic drifted to something else and Connie enjoyed some moments of tranquility on the floor of the trailer, his arms had unconsciously migrated themselves to being wrapped around Sasha’s waist and she was leaning back into him so his chin fit perfectly over her shoulder. 

He noticed that today her hair smelt like cinnamon, before Marco gently tapped him on the shoulder.  
“Hey, Connie.. Um, you know Jean said he didn’t want to come tonight? Was.. Was I mentioned at all in that?”  
He thought for a moment “Yeah, why?” Jean had exclaimed Marco’s name when he picked up the phone like it he was choking to death on it, Connie didn’t see any reason to omit that.  
“Oh. No reason.” Marco then turned to look out the front of the trailer, beyond the cab and into the oncoming road. He had also turned an uncanny shade of green, and his hands were trembling ever so slightly. 

Connie noticed this but didn’t pay it much mind, he figured it was probably some weird misunderstanding about tonights plans or something, whatever. They would sort it out fast enough, seeing one without the other had become jarring ever since they had become friends and then apparently siamese twins. 

The journey continued, he and Sasha striking up a rapport with Armin about saving up getting one of those Atari consoles which everyone was getting crazy-excited about at the moment.

By quarter to eight they had arrived outside a decent sized place named ‘The Pirripin’ from what Connie could decipher of the lurid neon sign outside. They parked and Connie swiftly spotted the Jaeger’s Starlet only a few spaces over.  
“Oh shit, this is where Eren works?” Sasha asked, head cocked to the side endearingly  
“Yep,” Hanji replied as she hopped off the trailer. “Allons-y kids, stick with me here. Buddy up if necessary!”

Eyes were rolled but everyone followed Hanji as they traipsed round to the entrance. Hanji exchanged a cheerful greeting and some quiet words with the only bouncer on the door who smiled and waved them all in without so much as a request for their birth date. 

Inside was loud and boisterous in both music and patrons. Connie quickly wove his way to the bar and ordered two rum and cokes. Unfortunately it wasn’t Eren though, rather some guy who Connie suspected was even shorter than him. Short-stop sent him a quirk of the eyebrow but didn’t ask for ID, sliding the glasses across the spotless bar top and wishing him a good night. 

Krista immediately found her way to Ymir and sat with her at the bar, both giggling and sharing yet more of their secret smiles. Actually, if Connie craned his neck he was pretty sure their hands were entwined. He felt warmed in his heart by their easy affection, he was categorically unphased by pretty much all sexualities- all he gave a shit about was his friends being happy.

He wandered over to the dance floor, where he and Sasha elegantly necked their drinks and she went to fetch some more. Connie observed Armin chatting with Erwin, both nursing what look like mojitos, as Mikasa, Annie, Hanji and to his surprise, Marco slammed down shots. 

After almost an hour and almost four drinks, Connie felt a little heady and hella ready to dance.  
He knew it was a sign when Blondie came on; Sasha had four great loves and they were food, pot, his company and Blondie.

According to her the time they had gotten stoned in his bedroom, ate more pizza than previously thought possible by mankind and danced like massive fucking losers to the album _Parallel Lines_ was the best of her life, and the look of wonder in her eyes as she said so seemed pretty genuine.

Connie grabbed Sasha by the hand and dragged her to the floor, aware of Reiner and Bertl dancing worse than his fucking dad to his left and Hanji trying to get Armin to waltz with her to the right, despite the song being totally inappropriate and them both being fairly wasted by this point.

‘.. _You can call me any day or night, call me_ ’

He span Sasha around and they danced together, wildly gesturing along to the lyrics and Connie exaggeratedly shimmying his shoulders because that never failed to make her crack up.  
Connie thought his ribs were going to split clean open from laughter at their ludicrous behaviour, him shaking his ass in a way that earned more than a few cheers from nearby onlookers and Sasha hamming up every single action in the song in a fashion that reminded him of Freddie Mercury onstage.

As the beat slowed and it came up to Sasha’s favourite bit when Debbie Harry crooned in French, Connie stopped dancing to briefly accept a wave from Bertl and a slap on the ass from Reiner, before turning around to dance some more but he was caught short by the scene before him.

‘ _Appelle-moi, mon cherie, appelle-moi_ ’

Sasha wasn’t dancing with him any more. Sasha had her arm on the shoulder and hand clasped in the hand of Captain fucking Eyebrows or whatever Reiner liked to call him. They were swaying together playfully, and she looked absolutely star-struck, looking up at him with wide eyes and a blush on her cheeks. 

Connie felt a burn in his chest. This was Sasha’s favourite bit, it was only right that she spent it with her favourite person right? He bet Captain Shit-brows didn’t even know this was her favourite bit, or that she loved Blondie, or how to make her favourite kind of Stupid Fucking Eggs.

He felt acid burn in his stomach, more corrosive than even in his darkest hangovers. He guessed it made sense, Captain Dumb Fucking Shit-brows was tall and blonde and his face looked like it belonged on a marble bust in a Greek temple. Connie was short and lumpy-headed and really fucking hated himself for that right now.

They remained in their embrace, Sasha’s eyes locked with his.  
Connie had seen enough. He felt betrayed almost, the only girl he ever danced with was Sasha, why couldn’t she return the fucking favour? He slumped to the bar and sat, only managing a halfway cheerful smile when Eren came up to ask if he wanted a drink.  
“Yeah, make it another rum and coke would you?”

 

Eren nodded, he looked a little tired from the evening so far, hair ruffled and his lip looking a smidgeon bruised.  
“Shit man, what happened to your lip?” Connie illustrated on his own face where the offending abrasion was, “You didn’t have another stupid fight with Jean did you? Oh man is that the reason he didn’t want to come out tonight? Jaeger you little shit!” he rambled a little sloppily in his fairly drunken state, Eren just handing him his drink before shaking his head.

“No, nothing like that. I thought ol’ horse-face loved coming to bars and shit?”  
Connie failed to notice the slight blush which coloured Eren’s cheeks and just shrugged. Eren sidled off to get someone else their drink and Connie went back to moping. 

He spied Marco to his left and sauntered over, claiming the barstool next to the boy with freckles and a far-away look in his eyes.  
“Sup Marco? Why aren’t you over there shaking it out with the others?”  
“Don’t feel like it at all” Marco replied, eyes visibly a little glassy. “Why aren’t you?”

Connie sighed, “Sasha found a new dance partner, some tall blonde beautiful guy who I can never-” He was cut off by Marco turning towards him with a look on his face like thunder.

Marco, dear sweet Marco turned to him and said “Connie. Over the last few weeks I have realised I want to do the frickle-frackle with someone. A boy. A boy almost all of my closest friends refer to as ‘horseface’. But recently I realised don’t just want to do the frickle-frackle. I think I am in love with this dumb fucking boy who shouted some bullshit and bolted when I gave telling him how I feel a shot. My life is an absolute fucking farce from start to finish and I am really sorry but I cannot be dealing with your GODDAMN SHIT RIGHT NOW.”

His voice cracked at the end, obviously unused to being used at anything over a gentle exclamation. Connie felt part shocked, part thrilled and a little guilt-stricken at the outburst.  
“Wow.. You and, wait, Jean?”  
Marco nodded grimly before pouring the rest of his drink down his throat and walking away with no further explanation. 

Connie was not used to so much of a tirade of emotions being inside him. He felt sad and a little pissed off because Sasha and Captain Dumb Fucking Assbutt Shit-brows were probably going to do the ‘frickle-frackle’ as Marco put it and Connie would be number two in her life, then three, then ten, then they would drift apart and it just wasn’t fair. 

He sipped his drink and took the time out of his hectic state to feel sorry for Marco. Poor Marco. He would help Marco figure this out. But at this instant he didn’t want to look up from the bottom of his glass because then he might glimpse Sasha with Captain Dumb Fucking Assbutt Turd Headed Shit-brows and even the thought of that was like acid in his veins. 

He had thought Sasha was his, in the unspoken way that he had always thought of himself as hers. Connie kept his head down and resisted the urge to slam his forehead into the still spotless bar top and cry.


	8. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah, another update! 
> 
> Feedback is always amazing to receive, hope you enjoy this :)

JEAN’S POV

Jean abruptly put the phone down to Connie, and detached the last tendrils of hope which had wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed like they were trying to stop it beating.

He felt a little guilty, but mostly just disappointed it wasn’t Marco. Marco apologising, Marco telling him he wanted to give him another chance, even Marco yelling at him and saying he never wanted to see him again would be better than the sudden halt of contact. Jean hadn’t been able to think about anything since yesterday evening.

There were a million awful ways his behaviour could have come off to Marco; that he was some disgusted homophobe who had bolted as soon as he brought up his sexuality, that he had understood the implications of the words he had shouted to him, in that wrecked, stricken tone which Jean had hoped he would never hear from him, and wasn’t interested, or worse flat-out hated him for it.

Jean tramped back upstairs and collapsed into bed. He had been lying there for almost twelve hours now, after migrating from his uncomfortable position splayed across the floor sobbing along to Heart.

He hadn’t slept a wink in that time, everytime he shut his eyes he could see his mistake replaying as if it had been whitewashed across his eyelids. He toyed with the idea of running to Marco’s house, falling to his knees on the front step and begging for a chance to explain himself, but he knew it was just a pipedream; he wasn’t stupid and reckless like Jaeger, or smart and diplomatic like Armin- he would cock it up and make everything worse.

Plus any courage that Jean had ever possessed in his heart fled when he thought about seeing Marco again. Marco probably fucking hated him, probably never wanted to see his stupid face ever again. 

So there he lay as the day lazily trickled by, putting on the tape player again for a little until he remembered that Marco had made it for him and then kicking it to the floor. It crackled and gave up, it’s plastic base shattering on impact. 

That was enough to send Jean back into a spiral of sobbing and feeling like a shit. He heard his parents depart at about five, they often spent the week in their apartment in Trost because it made commuting much easier for them. He decided that it meant he could sidle downstairs without a million and one questions, but once in the kitchen realised the thought of food repulsed him. 

He sat himself in the lounge and mechanically channel-hopped before realising absolutely nothing could take his mind off Marco. 

Another thrill of self-hatred shot through his chest as he thought how differently it all could have gone: he could have of sat and listened and if Marco had still told him about how he felt he could have smiled and embraced him. 

They could have had their first kiss at that swing set, Marco could have come back to his and they could have kissed some more. He thought about how nice it would be to have Marco’s familiar scent wreathing around him and him body curled up with his. 

Then they could have gone to Connie’s stupid downtown bar and danced and laughed together and been so happy they could die.

Regret churned Jean’s stomach as he sat there. He knew he couldn’t go on like this, but no alternative was obvious. The deeper implications began to sink in now; all of his friends were Marco’s friends. If he couldn’t bear to see Marco, he wouldn’t be able to see his friends. 

He would have to retreat into the hermit-like trace he had existed in before he had met the others from Stohess. Jean had never felt so lonely in his life.

Despair crashed over him like he was in the wake of a huge ocean wave, water flooding his mouth and nose and face. All he could taste was salt. 

Jean was so tired. So tired, but he knew he’d never sleep at this rate so he shuffled to his parent’s bathroom and their medicine cabinet. His mother used to suffer many sleepless nights, so they had a small stock of Ambien. He popped four pills right off the bat, by this point not really giving a shit if the dosage was too high. 

He swallowed them down with water from the sink cupped in his palms and returned to his room. He lay down and a foggy sensation overcame his vision, and a metallic taste rang in his mouth.

Jean felt like he was being pushed down into his mattress as eddies and currents of light began to swim above him, contorting and writhing together. He stared, zoning in and out as these blurry shades thrashing around above him. 

One melted into his mother’s face, frowning down at him chidingly. Another became Marco, pale and stricken. The sound of his voice, broken and sobbing reeled around Jean’s head as he pushed away at the cloying feeling. 

REINER’S POV

Reiner went for an extra-long jog the morning after their visit to The Pirripin, trying to shake the grasp of his hangover and reminisced on the events of last night. He had got to his favourite stage of drunken revelry and not beyond, so he was pissed but jovial all evening.  
He had a whale of a time, dancing with Bertolt and another cute guy he didn’t remember the name of. Reiner could appreciate cuteness whatever the gender, and therefore took it as a great compliment when someone returned the favour. 

He wasn’t gay, it was just whatever. Reiner was tough enough to ensure no-one gave him shit for what he did, and it was all relative. He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually do the deed with a guy, but after Bertl came out it was obvious to Reiner that he had nothing to be ashamed of in finding the odd one attractive.

After the third lap of the block he returned home. Bertolt’s lanky frame was stretched across one couch, and Connie was curled up on the floor on a rug. Reiner opted to put the radio on full blast and the dulcet tones of Bon Jovi’s Dead Or Alive woke them up.

Connie was always a little less ludicrous and full of beans than usual in the morning but it didn’t escape Reiner’s notice that he seemed downright miserable at the moment, barely touching the breakfast Bertl had fixed up for the trio graciously even after his rude awakening.  
Reiner bumped Connie’s side. “Yo, what’s wrong cue-ball?”

Connie scowled at the nickname before sighing. “You know when you have something, but don’t realise what it could have been until it’s gone? Like in elementary when the kid you always buddy up with and never even considered not being their partner for a shitty science project or a school trip, but then one day they buddy up with someone else like you never even existed? And it just feels like the ultimate betrayal?”  
Bertl frowned, “Connie are you saying that someone didn’t want to be on your kickball team and now you’re sad?”

“It’s a fucking metaphor Bert!” Connie exclaimed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to um, shout.”  
Bertolt looked a little affronted by the outburst but smiled at the placating apology. Connie wasn’t good with volume, he knew that all too well.  
“So, what’s it a metaphor for?” Reiner asked “I’m pretty flummoxed by what you’re saying too..”

Connie frowned and poked at his plate of bacon a little before answering. “So, last night, me and Sasha were dancing right? Like in the normal goofy way we always do, but then I stop to wave at you Bert, and thank you for than slap to the ass you gave me Reiner-”

Reiner shrugged unapologetically and Bertolt lit a cigarette, motioning for Connie to keep talking.

-“and then she’s dancing with that fucking great oaf with the eyebrows, looking at him like he can shit out the rainbow. And now I feel like crap and I don’t totally understand why, but why would she rather dance with him? I’m her best friend, y’know? And.. And..”

Connie trailed off with a look of anguish on his face, and Reiner decided he had to address this shit before it got any more tragic.  
“Connie, that feeling is called ‘jealousy’. Because Sasha might like someone else who isn’t you and you don’t like that”  
“She likes you guys, and that doesn’t bother me..”  
Bertolt cut across him there, still puffing on his cigarette.  
“She doesn’t like us though, Connie, I think you need to admit to yourself that you might have deeper than platonic feelings for Sasha, because that’s what it looks like from here.”

Connie spluttered a little and tried to jam some food in his mouth, probably thinking that choking to death on bacon was preferable to this conversation.

Reiner shook his head and sighed “C’mon man, there’s no shame in just liking a girl you know.”  
Connie stared at him like he had called Hendrix ‘ _just some guy with a guitar_ '.

“It isn’t ‘a girl’ is it though, it’s Sasha. She’s my best friend! How the fuck can I just turn around and be like ‘hey, I think you and I would be a more perfect couple than Henry the eighth and that one wife he didn’t divorce or have killed’?”  
Bertl shrugged, “By saying just that I suppose, but you should probably take into account that Henry the eighth and Catherine Parr hardly had a happy marriage-”

Reiner nudged Bertolt, causing him to drop his cigarette into his empty plate. “Hardly the pep talk he needs right now Bertl-Turtle, but nice try.”

EREN’S POV

Last night was chaotic for Eren, the stress of the usual rush of work amplified by the presence of his friends. He didn’t even want to know how they got into the place, but they swallowed up his time and attention with their drunken chit-chat, causing him to lag behind in terms of orders. 

He got off at midnight, and wandered around the back towards his car gently taking drags off another roll-up. Eren was great believer in waste-not-want-not, and decided that he would embrace the challenge of rolling his own cigarettes with open arms and only a little disgruntlement. 

“Hey brat”  
He glanced back towards the bar and saw Levi walked towards him, a glint in his eye and a sway in his hips.  
“Hi there, dickface”  
Levi smirked at the rebuttal and pulled Eren towards him as he drew near.

Eren wrapped his arms around his neck and accepted the embrace, revelling in the sensation of Levi’s strong arms around his waist. Levi pushed a quick kiss into the crook of his neck and Eren sighed at the affection, hooking his chin over Levi’s head and dropping a kiss of his own onto his thick, dark hair.

Eren drew away with a smile which was reciprocated by Levi. He saved the mental picture into the thin but quickly expanding folder in his head labelled ‘Levi’s proper smiles’. 

Levi broke the eye contact to fish around in his pocket and pull out a magic marker.  
“Give me your arm, no the other one you idiot. If I write my number on that one you won’t be able to read it off properly when you call me tomorrow.”

Eren flushed a little but recovered as Levi’s cold hands cradled his arm and scrawled a number across it in elegant script.  
“When I call you tomorrow?”

Levi glanced up at him, and following his streak of unpredictability seized him by the collar of his button up and pulled him downwards into a fierce kiss. Their mouths met and Eren automatically wound his hands into Levi’s hair, desperately reciprocating the passion he was supplying.

It only lasted a few seconds, Levi pulling away and smirking before confirming “When you call me tomorrow.”

He walked towards his own car and Eren hopped into his own, smiling in return to the little flutter of fingers Levi sent in farewell. He felt like he was gliding along the streets rather than driving, that last kiss sending all the blood from his head to, ahem, elsewhere. 

The drive went by quickly, and he arrived to an empty home. Too exhausted to bother with a shower before tomorrow morning, Eren tumbled into bed, his eyes sliding shut and his final thoughts contemplating how well the space beside him could facilitate a short, grumpy man with awful manners and the most captivating smile he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.


	9. Wish You Were Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, sorry about the belated update; it's been a hectic start to the week unfortunately..  
> But anyhoo, here's the latest chapter, complete with angsty shits left right and centre. Hope you like it! c:

CONNIE’S POV

Connie had been feeling antsy since Reiner's the previous morning, even an afternoon session in the arcade with the guys and a joint before bed didn't relax him. 

The on-edge feeling rested at the pit of his stomach no matter what he did, his heart warped to light-speed when he picked up the phone just before it rang off and Sasha's voice echoed down the receiver.

"Hey Con, what'cha doing today?"  
"Um, I, nothing actually, why do you wanna hang out?"  
His voice cracked a little on the last phrase and he flipped off his brother who snorted from his position on the couch, smoking a long roll-up which smelt a lot like the Columbian he had been smoking the night before.

Connie made a mental note to chew him out for delving into his pot-stash, before tuning back into Sasha's words.

".. And then I thought we could go to Taco Bell and maybe catch a movie?"  
"Oh, uh yeah sure that sounds good."

Sasha paused for a moment.  
"Are you okay Connie? You sound weird as fuck. You didn't take any of those pills that were going around the other night did you?"  
"Huh? Oh no, no way I just got a bad nights sleep.. Taco Bell and a movie sounds rad, who else should invite?"

Connie desperately tried to inject some of his usual pep into his words but even he could tell it fell flat

"Hmmm I think we should do this one solo, we haven't hung out properly for about a million years! I've gotta get my skates on now cowboy, but I'll catch you at.. Three? Outside 'Bell?"  
"Yeah, yeah sounds cool, I'll see you then"

Sasha disconnected and Connie felt a strange twist in his gut. Usually he'd jump at the chance to hang out with his best friend, but somehow over the period of forty-eight hours she'd gone from Sasha to being _Sasha_. She was still his goofy buddy, but now he wanted to also hold her, and kiss her and protect her from the evils of the world the best a fucking midget like him could.

“Yo, was that the girl you’ve got a stiffy for or something?” Leo giggled from the couch  
Connie huffed and chucked a cushion at him as he passed, “No, just Sasha.”  
“..You’ve got the hots for Sasha? Like girl-who-eats-us-out-of-house-and-home Sasha?”  
“Fuck off!”  
Connie stomped to his room, changing into a slightly more decent Arizona Wildcats basketball vest and his usual sneakers, checking his watch to see that his three o’clock meeting with Sasha was only an hour away.

He could walk to Taco Bell in half that time so it was no issue, however he couldn’t quell the anxiety running up and down his spine. Connie knew that if he acted off with her even a little, she would notice and hound him until he told her what was up, and that wasn’t how he planned to tell her he liked her. He wasn’t sure how he did plan to tell her, but there was probably a string-quartet and lots of crying involved. He wasn’t sure who would be crying and why yet, though.

Connie walked to the Taco Bell at an easy pace, enjoying the summer sun on his skin and letting it melt his cares away one by one. Suddenly he was in the Taco Bell parking lot and all of those problems felt like ice cubes lodged in his throat all over again. 

He stood waiting, not expecting the sudden weight of Sasha jumping on his back.  
“CONNIE! THERE YOU ARE!”  
He fell to the ground with an ‘ooft’, Sasha always did forget that she was about four inches taller than him and what felt like five stone heavier. 

She landed on top of him, giggling like a lunatic. Connie laughed too, mocking himself for getting so worked up about it. Right until he squirmed half-over and they were nose to nose. 

From here he could see the light dusting of freckles sprayed over her nose, and if he took the time he could probably count each one of her dark eyelashes. He felt like his heart was going to explode. 

Sasha realized he had stopped laughing and looked down at him, a serious moment of tension stretching between them.  
“Oh shit, I’m crushing your ribs again aren’t I?” She let him up, and he took the opportunity to nod fervently, yep yes totally that’s why I went silent and started staring at you like a total fucking freak.

“Yeah, you big lug..” He teased, trying to ease himself back into their natural banter.  
She slapped his shoulder and giggled, “Alright alright, as an apology, tacos are on me.”  
Connie wasn’t so far out of his usual mental state he didn’t smile at the prospect of free food.

They walked together towards the Taco Bell, Sasha absentmindedly looping her arm through Connie’s and chattering about the mass D&D game she was planning on setting up with Bertolt.  
Connie couldn’t help but wonder if they usually made this much physical contact. He couldn’t believe that if they had, he had been so calm about it. 

Right now her hand was clasped around the crook of his arm and their hips kept brushing. That was all, and Connie felt like he was about to have a fucking stroke.

They ordered and ate quickly, and Connie had hoped Sasha’s decidedly gross approach to eating food might put him off a little, but instead it was just hopelessly endearing. It was one of the things that made Sasha, Sasha. He ate with less gusto than usual, kind of how he imagined Erwin Smith would eat a double-decker beef taco.

Sasha had decided she wanted to see Bladerunner for the eighth time since it had come out, and Connie had to agree. He fucking loved Bladerunner. A matinee showing was happening at the shitty little theatre a few blocks away from the Taco Bell, so there they walked. Sasha talked animatedly as Connie smoked a cigarette, until she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him around to face her. 

“Cons, seriously. What is up with you man?”  
“Me? Uh, nothing.”  
“Nothing my ass, you’ve been acting super fucking weird all day.”

Connie felt almost insulted, he had tried damn hard at behaving like everything was totally normal.

“Have not!”  
“Yeah, you have. First of all, I fall on you about three times a day but you froze up all awkwardly earlier. Then, you only have one taco as opposed to your normal three, and now you’re smoking during the day. You only ever smoke cigarettes at night!”  
“Pffft, no I do not, you’re being ridiculous.”

She was totally right.

“No, I’m not. Conrad Isaac Springer, I know you and therefore I know when something’s up.”  
Connie stared at her face, drawn into a mask of seriousness. He stared, trying to think of something clever to say, before against his will a smirk wobbled across his mouth.  
“.. Did you just full name me?!”

They both broke into peals of laughter, “No one uses my full name but my fuckin’ grandma when she’s mad at me!”  
Sasha giggled a little more. “Yeah I know, I got really bored of you not telling me what it was so I just asked Leo after I saw him in StarMart the other week..”  
Connie gaped. That little snake in the grass. He tallied that up on the list of things he was pissed at him brother for, then in a fit of relief that the tension was broken pulled Sasha’s head into an enthusiastic noogie. 

“Hey, hey fuck off cue-ball, just because you have no hair to screw up!”  
Connie huffed at the insult and released her, walking towards the theatre. She caught up easily and threw her arm around his shoulder. She blushed a little when he hooked his arm around her waist as they sauntered along. Usually their physical affection was one-sided in a mocking you’re-my-little-buddy kind of way, but today Connie decided he was amping this shit up a notch.

EREN’S POV

Eren reached out for the phone again before dropping his arm to his side. To call or not to call, that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and hooks of being outrageously desperate, or to stand against a sea of hormones and in doing so, end them. 

Eren cursed Armin for reciting that damned soliloquy to him until it was committed to his memory too, and he didn’t even do theatre club. He glanced back down to Levi’s number, safely transferred from his arm to a post-it note. 

It was four o’clock, would Levi be awake at this point? Would he be in his.. House? Apartment? The more Eren thought about it the more he realised he didn’t know about Levi. Where did he live? Did he like living there? What is his favourite band? What kind of breakfast cereal does he prefer? 

The things Eren wanted to know about him were limitless. 

What was his bedroom like? Did he keep that as meticulously tidy as he did the bar at work? What kind of pyjamas does he wear? Did he wear none at all?

Eren blushed like an eleven-year-old at the thought of Levi naked, he imagined he would be all pale skin and sinewy muscle. It was testament to how pathetically sexually frustrated he was when he started to feel a stirring between his legs at the thought. 

He shook his head. He had to sack up and just call Levi already. He allowed himself one more aborted grab for the phone before he steeled himself and dialled the number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. No answer.

Eren felt like an absolute tool, stressing out about one lousy phone call which didn’t even get answered. He sat down then, a little deflated. Then the phone began to ring. He picked up, assuming it was Annie asking after Mikasa, or Sasha calling about her dumb Dungeons & Dragons plan.

“Yeah?”  
“Yeah to you too, brat..”

The familiar hum of Levi’s baritone voice echoed down the phone and Eren almost did a double-take. 

“I called, you didn-”  
“I know, my bad. I was playing and didn’t hear the phone go off.”

That piqued Eren’s interest.

“Playing..?”  
“Piano. I’ll show you some time. I’m not half bad actually”  
“Modest, too” Eren smirked  
“Whatever, not like I said I’m humanity’s greatest or anything.”

Eren was actually really enjoying talking to Levi. The gentle thrum of Levi’s deep voice was also the focal point of many of his fantasies at the moment, so he was savouring every word and how it rolled off his tongue, despite the static. 

“Uh huh.. So why did you want me to call you?”  
“Is it so unrealistic that maybe I just wanted to chat shit with you once in a while? Plus I could do with some company Wednesday night.”  
“Oh, really? Cool.”

Eren fought to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. Finally, so many of his questions would be answered.

“Yep. I’ll talk to you about it at work tomorrow, but for now, how was your day?”

That caught him off guard, Levi never really seemed the type for small-talk.

“Um, good, yeah fine. Only woke up a few hours ago, had a shower and did some reading.”  
“Reading?” Levi’s voice was a little mocking and that made Eren’s temper flare just a little.  
“Yeah. Vonnegut. Armin gave it to me”

Levi paused before asking “Armin, is that the little blonde one? Who kept being mistook for a girl by almost all of the hulking lesbians in the bar last night?”  
Eren laughed despite himself. “Yep, that’s our Armin.”

Conversation trickled on from there, until Mikasa got home and Eren had to excuse himself.  
“Well, I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Bye, Levi.”  
“Goodbye Eren.”

Eren paused before hanging up, and apparently so did Levi. There was a moment of silence when neither of them disconnected. Eren burst out laughing and could practically feel Levi rolling his eyes on a gargantuan scale as he hung up the phone. 

Mikasa just looked at him like he was dumb as a bag of rocks before sighing and unpacking the groceries.

JEAN’S POV

Jean had been all alone for two days now. After his parents left for Trost he had ridden out his Ambien-fuelled high until he passed out.

He had slept for almost twelve hours, and he woke up groggy but feeling no less fucking awful. The mourning burn in his stomach had dulled a little, but the conundrum of how the fuck he was going to handle the situation that the misunderstanding had spiralled into was as present and sparkling as it was forty-eight hours ago. 

Not to mention, Jean still loathed himself. He was so fucking stupid and bumbling and if he just an iota of self-control his life would be awesome. Instead now he was alone and miserable. The phone rang now and then, but he didn’t bother picking it up. He knew it wouldn’t be Marco.

He lay in bed, smoking his way through his final pack of cigarettes and listening to Pink Floyd on his parent’s record player. When it came to ‘Wish You Were Here’ he couldn’t help but have another sob to himself.

‘.. _Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage_..?’

The lilting guitar riff stuck in his mind and chimed over and over until he got up and decided to go to the nearest corner shop to buy some more smokes. He dressed in baggy jeans and a dirty sweater, which he realised was Marco’s several seconds after he put it on. 

He had to sit down for a minute then, wrapping himself in the stiff fabric and inhaling the smell of Marco. It was like pine and lavender. 

Jean got a grip after a while, but still couldn’t face going out until it was dark and he had another two pops of Ambien. 

He sauntered down to the store then, head lighter than usual and the part of his mind which was still engaging praying he didn’t see anyone he knew. He paid up for the packet of cigarettes and made some shitty small talk with the clerk before leaving, dragging his feet along the sidewalk and feeling like he was gravity’s only target at that moment. 

He felt so impossibly weighted down with guilt and isolation, that it was a miracle he even made it home without just curling up in someone’s drive and giving up. He got there eventually, clambering the stairs and crumpling back into bed. 

Jean lit up the first cigarette of his new pack and lay there for a little, before realising this wasn’t going to cut it. He took another two pills from the Ambien pot and lay in the bathtub, allowing the mists of his mind to take him where they may. 

The sound of Marco’s sobbing echoed around his head even more than it had the previous evening.


	10. Livin' On A Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter just from Reiner's point of view; I meant to include Eren's too but I am waaay too tired for that and they're both a decent length so it's gonna be two chapters for the intent of one I'm afraid..
> 
> Enjoy! Although don't think Jean's out of the woods yet.. *deviously smirks*

REINER’S POV

After seeing hide nor two-toned hair of Jean for almost three days, Reiner was worried. He had called his phone twice yesterday, to no avail. Bertolt, Annie and Armin were all reporting similar results. 

He tried getting ahold of Marco, but at the mention of Jean he fell silent and said he had to go in a tremulous voice. None of them knew what that meant, but they could all assume it fell under the category of ‘not good’.

Tuesday at around midday when another of his calls and two of Armin’s rang off into silence, Reiner decided it was time to pay a visit to the Kirstein household. He trekked to Rosa Close, with a concerned Armin and Bertolt in tow, mind clouded with terrible consequences of the almost 78-hour blackout they had endured. 

It was a cloudier day than it had been for a while. The air was sticky and humid, which was doing no favours for his patience, Armin’s hair or Bertolt’s perspiration problem. They arrived at Jean’s place, a spacious house in the nicest part of Stohess and Reiner wasted no time in hammering his fist against the door in an aggressive attempt at knocking.

“Hey, guys..” Armin began, peering around at the empty driveway “His parent’s car isn’t here.. They live in Trost sometimes right? Maybe Jean’s gone with them.”

Bertolt shrugged “It does make sense Rein...”  
Reiner shook his head. “Jean fucking hates staying in Trost, he’s told me so about a million times. No way he’s gone there.” He then returned to his furious knocking. 

Bertolt shrugged once more, not really sure who to believe. In an act of solidarity he joined Reiner in battering the door. Reiner knelt down in front of the letterbox and peered in. 

The hallway was dark but he could make out both Jean’s leather jacket and boots.  
“Yo, his jacket and shoes are here” He called over his shoulder to Armin, who was still looking conflicted on the cobbled path, “No way he’d leave his leather here, he’s got to be in.”

Armin frowned and nodded, moving towards the door to crouch next to Reiner- Bertolt still pummelling the door above them. Armin called into the house, “Jean? Jean are you in?”  
“We’re worried about you man, open up!” Reiner chimed in.

The house remained silent.  
“Jean I swear to fucking god, open the door this instant or I will come in there and make you wish Jaeger had broken your balls!” Reiner shouted, getting fairly pissed off now. 

They all stood up and away from the door, Bertolt looking pretty worn out and sweating even more profusely than before.  
“C’mon,” Armin said briskly, “let’s see if there’s a window we can jimmy open.”

Reiner was a little shocked at such a dastardly suggestion from someone as angelic as Armin, but agreed nonetheless. He walked up to the door to give it one last try, rapping the wood with his knuckles and calling in a voice which he hoped would carry through the structure.

“Jean open up or we’re gonna break in!”

To his surprise, the wood shifted under his fist. Then it slid back to reveal Jean. Reiner wasn’t being insensitive or anything when he thought man, he looks fucking terrible.

The bags under Jean’s eyes resembled bruises, ugly and purple, smeared under his eyes which were more bloodshot than Sasha’s after a night in with Connie. His skin looked pasty and washed out, and his hair was matted and greasy. Clearly this boy hadn’t had a shower in the short time he’d been a recluse. 

When he tried to speak it came out as a rasp, and he had to clear his throat and try again. “Wh-What the fuck do you guys want?”  
He tried to move through the door frame but cringed at the sunlight and sidled back into the inky hallway.

Reiner flailed for words, he had never seen anyone, much less Jean in a state like this. He was in jeans, loose jeans at that, never Jean’s forte, which were creased and crumpled. His face looked drawn and sickly. Luckily Armin was more eloquent than Reiner in a situation like this.

“Jean, what the fuck have you been playing at? We’ve been worried half to death about you, seriously what is wrong?” Armin snapped.  
“Nothing’s wrong, I-”  
“Don’t give us that bullshit Jean.” Everyone looked kind of taken about by Bertolt’s quiet but steel-laced words. “You look like crap, and we’re trying to help you. Let us be your friends here alright?”

Jean opened and closed his mouth for a moment, totally thrown by the closest Bertl ever came to an outburst.  
“I appreciate your concern, but there isn’t much you can do. I don’t want to talk about, just please, leave me be for now.”  
He tried to shut the door but Reiner wedged his foot in the way. 

“No, fuck that,” Reiner internally celebrated finally finding his voice “You need help right now, and we’re going to do just that, like it or fucking not. Let us in Jean.”  
Jean deflated and stood back from the door, moving down the hall and motioning for them to enter.  
Armin flicked on the lights as they traipsed into the house, they clearly hadn’t been used in a while as they spluttered before casting light over the hallway. Bertolt shut the door behind him and Reiner pulled Jean into the kitchen to sit at the table. Close up, his eyes looked even more glassy and inflamed. 

Reiner had comforted Annie through her parent’s divorce enough to know when someone had been crying themselves to sleep. He sat with Jean and sized him up- he was wearing an viridescent cable knit sweater which obviously wasn’t from his wardrobe. It should have been a little baggy most likely, but it hung off his limbs in a shockingly slack fashion.

“Jean, when’s the last time you ate?” Reiner asked cautiously.  
“Um..” He could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t being coy or stalling for time, Jean genuinely didn’t know. “Saturday? Or Sunday maybe? Not too long.”

Bertolt snorted. “Not too long my ass. I’m making you some food right this instant.” He disappeared around the corner and began audibly rummaging through the fridge.  
“No, no I really don’t feel hungry” Jean protested.  
Armin fixed him with a stern look. “You are going to eat that food, but before that you’re going to tell us what catastrophic thing happened to turn you into a moping hermit.”

Jean looked taken aback all over again before hanging his head.  
“I dicked up.” He mumbled, “I dicked up really fucking badly Armin.”  
His voice cracked a little on the final syllable and Reiner felt crushing sympathy for his usually proud and well put-together friend.  
“Yeah?” Armin coaxed gently, “what happened Jean?”

Jean swallowed unsteadily, glancing around before hanging his head again.  
“Marco hates me.”  
Reiner’s eyes widened with incredulity, “Marco doesn’t hate you man, Marco loves you.”

“NO, Reiner, that’s the fucking problem!” Jean shouted suddenly, causing Bertolt to yelp and drop what ever he was doing with a loud clatter. Jean didn’t hear or didn’t care, either way he carried on his tirade. “Marco doesn’t love me, I love him. I fucking love him Reiner and he probably never wants to see my face again. I fucked up astronomically on this one, not just the time I tried to ask Mikasa to Homecoming style of fucked up, like actually properly ruined everything fucked up.”

He looked surprised at the ferocity of his words before his face crumpled. Reiner witnessed something he never thought he would: Jean Kirstein bury his head in his hands and uncensoredly sob. He choked out more words.

“So yeah, I feel I’m entitled to become a moping hermit and cry my fag little heart out all I want because I’m in love with someone who is not only my best friend and a boy, but also someone who probably will never want to look at me in the eye again.”

Reiner sat there unsettled and unsure of what to do. Bertl re-appeared from the kitchen area with a plate of bagels with peanut butter and place in in front of his shuddering form.  
Reiner started to reach out to pat his back comfortingly, but Armin caught his eye and shook his head. _No_ , he mouthed, _let him get it all out first __._

Jean drew a weak breath and exhaled it as he looked up. His face was blotchy and tear-stained as he began to talk in a precariously hysterical tone.

“So, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep without a handful of fucking pills and I can’t think at the moment. It’s going to quite a chore getting myself back on track, so I don’t think I want to bother. I’ve never loved anyone before this, and I don’t think I will again, because it fucking hurts. It sucks and it’s like a twist of the dagger every time I contemplate leaving my stupid room and seeing his stupid face, because he’s done with me. He said so. And he’s going to be moving on and I can’t watch that, I can’t fucking take watching that.”

His voice quavered again and he slumped into his seat, looking like the most broken man Reiner had ever set eyes upon. Then Armin nodded at him and he reached out a tentative hand.  
He patted his back soothingly as Armin began to talk.  
“Tell us the story Jean, right from the beginning.”

And so Jean did. He told them about the day he and Marco shared together, how they had gone for a walk. How Marco had been asked out by Mina and he punctuated that with some choice venomous words. Then Marco had told him he was gay. And that he liked someone. And Jean, being the bull-headed moron he is, had taken that in exactly the wrong way, said the exactly wrong thing and then charged off like an idiot. He could barely speak by the end of it, but managed to stutter out that Marco had shouted to him to “never fucking mind” about it, and then disappeared. 

Bertolt hummed in all the right places and Armin squinted his eyes in the way he always did when he was about to do something clever. Nervous convulsive gasps began to wrack Jean’s body again and Reiner nipped that in the bud by offering him some of the bagel. He ate tentatively as Armin spoke.

“First of all, Jean you have no business calling Eren a reckless idiot. Sometimes you’re just as bad, if not worse. Also, you don’t need to be disintegrating like this, it was a simple misunderstanding. Totally fixable. You just need to talk with Marco, and it will be sorted out. That’s all there is to it.”

Jean stared at Armin with a mouthful of bagel, like he was the blonde-haired messiah. 

Reiner bumped his shoulder with his own. “Tomorrow night we’re going out to the desert again, you should join us. Take a shower, change your damn clothes and get some decent rest and you’ll be ship-shape. You’ll sort things out with Marco, I promise you.”

Jean hiccupped a little as he swallowed his chunk of food and nodded. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Armin smiled at that, and Bertolt switched on the radio. Bon Jovi flooded into the room, as did some of the colour on Jean’s face. Reiner hoped to Jesus, Mary and Joseph he could make good on his promise to his fragile friend.


	11. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote porn for the first time. *sweats nervously*  
> Hope it's not too awful, and expect another update soon!
> 
> A huge thank you to all of my readers, commenters, bookmarkers and um, kudos-ers? Is that the right phrase? But regardlessly, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, YOU ALL ROCK SOMETHING HELLA. c:

EREN’S POV

Eren prepared for work on Tuesday in his usual fashion, lacing his combat boots at the table before he tucked into some early dinner. Soup and bread wasn’t extravagant, but he enjoyed it all the same since his usual diet mostly consisted of cereal and fry-ups. 

Once he was done he checked his watch before tramping up to Mikasa’s room. He knocked before peeking his head around the door. She was sitting on her bed with Annie, who was smoking a clump of green through a small glass pipe which Mikasa usually didn’t let anyone touch.

“Yo, Annie, Mikasa. I’m just heading out to work now.”  
Annie nodded an apathetic goodbye. Mikasa actually replied, although her tongue sounded a little heavy in her mouth.  
“Alright ‘Ren. Are you gonna come out to the desert tomorrow night? Because I’m driving Hanji and that out so you may as well hitch a lift.”

Eren grinned a big shit-eating smile. “Nope, I’ve got plans. I’m staying at a.. Friend from work’s place.”  
“Is that the same ‘friend from work’ you made out with on our doorstep a few days ago?”

“You saw that?! How?! Are some kind of hawk-eyed freak or something?” Eren snapped in return, a little taken aback by the observation.  
“Something like that.. So, have a good time with your boyfriend. Use a rubber.”

Eren spluttered and Annie’s normally stoic expression stretched into one of surprise “Boyfriend?” She grinned, “didn’t take you for the type to be honest, Eren.”

Eren just huffed and slammed the door, partially because he if he didn’t get a move on he would be late for his shift and partially because his friends are dicks.

As vengeance he took Mikasa’s half full pack of smokes on his way out and her bomber jacket, just because he’d grown very fond of that. He drove down town at a leisurely pace, smoking one of the cigarettes out the window and thinking about Mikasa’s words. Was Levi his boyfriend? 

They had kissed a few times now, and Eren was ninety-nine percent sure that night at the drive-in had been a date. He hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking; he had really come to like Levi, and although he had never considered himself the type to want a relationship, the thought of having something steady with Levi was such an appealing prospect it made his stomach erupt in butterflies. 

No, not butterflies. Something manlier, like.. Moths. It made his stomach feel like it was filled with moths. Eren considered what actually being with Levi would be like. Staying around his house, having dinner together, watching shitty TV and then sleeping in the same bed. Hopefully doing more than sleeping. 

Eren had frantically jerked off in the shower earlier, thinking about Levi’s mouth trailing languidly down his dick and his deft hands clasping around his ass, but he didn’t think that would do much to calm his libido when he was around Levi. 

He pulled into his usual space in the parking lot and walked in through the back door as usual, earning a cheery smile from Erwin who was in the room behind the bar, frantically tapping away at a calculator. 

“Hey Eren!” He called over, “how are you finding the business so far?”  
“Good, amazing actually, thank you so much-”  
“It was my pleasure.” Erwin cut him off, standing up and coming over with an envelope in his hands. “This are your wages for the last few shifts you pulled, Levi’s told me you’re doing exceptionally well so far, and believe me that man does not dole out compliments easily.”  
Erwin chuckled like he was reminiscing on a better time and Eren felt a peculiar little stab of jealousy. 

He thought Erwin was an awesome guy, no questions asked, but he had got into the habit of thinking of Levi as his. It was weird to find someone who obviously considered himself closer to the short man than he was. 

Eren decided it was more mature not to comment and just nodded, accepting the envelope with a little thrill in his heart and his head whirring with mental maths. Three seven hour shifts at $4 an hour came to $84 dollars overall. Fucking radical. 

He played it cool and courteously smiled at Erwin and thanked him, all the while mentally celebrating his first-ever paycheck. Erwin smiled in return and sat at a bar stool whilst Eren prepped things for the evening, stacking and polishing glasses.

“So,” Erwin began, in a less confident tone than usual, “I’ve heard you and Levi have become pretty close lately?”

Eren almost dropped the tumbler he was wiping dry. “Um, yeah, yeah we are.”  
Oh fuck, he really didn’t know what to make of this. Would Erwin be mad? Would he insist they break things off? 

“Be good to him, Eren.”  
Not what he had been expecting.  
“Levi’s much more of a sensitive soul than he makes out. He’s a very old and dear friend of mine, which gives me confidence in my inkling that you’re going to be good for each other.” 

And that was all, before Erwin swept out of the room. Eren was fairly stunned by the way the conversation had panned out. He occupied himself with the glasses until he heard the back door swing open again and Levi’s familiar stride approaching him.

“Hey Eren” Levi greeted. “You’ve missed at least one spot of every one of those tumblers you know.” Eren groaned. Fucking shitty glasses. Even Mikasa was subordinate to Levi’s level of OCD eagle-vision. 

Levi chuckled and opened up doors. Tonight was a jazz night, so live performance and an atmosphere which was much more relaxed than the usual mayhem. Eren poured and measured drinks as the usual crowd filtered in, all finding a perch of some form on the obviously budget furniture which had been dragged onto the expanse of floor between the bar and dance floor where a young gentleman played a whimsical trumpet piece. 

Levi took the lull in service as an opportunity to wrap his arms around Eren’s waist and hooking his chin over the taller man’s shoulder. Eren couldn’t help the giddy smile which spread across his face at Levi’s casual affection and clasped the hands around his waist in his own, gently dragging the pad of his thumb across the back of Levi’s hands which were cool the the touch.

The music was slow and seductive, and Eren began to relax as he leant backwards into Levi’s embrace. He almost moaned at the ferocity of the shiver that ran down his spine as Levi began to press tiny kisses into his neck, beneath the earlobe.

His skin felt too tight and hot, but not in a bad way. Their embrace was abruptly ended by the song finishing, and the night trickled on in a similar fashion, stolen moments of sentimentality amongst the night’s business. 

It was more than enough to get Eren appropriately worked up in the hormone department, and he felt like the slightest brush against his erogenous zone on Levi’s part would probably make him jizz in his pants like some kind of fucking idiot by the time their shift ended. 

He lit a cigarette once outside and went to unlock his car, planning on listening to his new The Clash tape which Mikasa had bought for him a few weeks previously. Unfortunately, once he was inside the car, things began to turn pear-shaped. No matter how many times he turned his keys in the ignition, the motor refused to engage. Shit, he cursed to himself. 

“Car troubles, brat?” Levi’s familiar drawl sounded from the exit.  
Eren sighed and nodded, clambering out of the seat and moving around the car to pop the bonnet. 

He stared down at the engine until Levi joined his side, also staring down intently at the interior of the car.  
“Ah, yes, I see the problem.”  
“Really?” Eren’s heart leapt, he should have known Levi was good with mechanics and multi-faceted and-  
“The problem is it’s a shitty car with some kind of shitty problem that we don’t know how to fix.”

Ah, nope. Levi glanced at him, gently winding his arm around his waist. “Come on brat, you can crash the night at my apartment and we’ll get this towed to the garage tomorrow morning. Alright?”

Eren smiled with gratitude and reciprocated the half-embrace with a squeeze of Levi’s shoulder and pressed his lips to his cheek, internally giggling at the little stoop he had to perform to kiss him.

Obviously it wasn’t as internal as Eren had hoped as Levi jammed his elbow into his ribs playfully and dragged him by the hand to his Honda. In Eren’s grief and frustration with his car he had neglected that this was an amazing occurrence. He was finally going to get to see Levi’s home, most of his weird over-personal questions about his life would be answered in the next few minutes. 

He hopped into shotgun and immediately started fiddling with the radio. Levi shut his door and started up the car. They began to drive as Eren tuned into a station he liked.  
“Careful brat, you might start accusing me of not having a soul again.” Levi remarked teasingly.

Eren went blank for a moment before he remember the comment he had made to Levi the last time he had played a song on his radio and blushed a little.  
“Hey, you were really mean to me that day!”  
“I’m fairly mean to you every day, just think of that as an indication for things to come.”

Eren rolled his eyes and mentally willed for the commercials on the radio to stop so his point would be proved. Chords began to cascade out of the player, but he didn’t recognise then until Levi grinned at him and began to sing along the the lyrics. 

‘ _Well I guess it would be nice, If I could touch your body, I know not everybody, has got a body like me.._ ’

Eren groaned and clasped his head into his hands, to Levi’s delight, who began moving his shoulders along to the beat and singing along with George Michael as loudly as he could. 

“Fucking stop that!”  
“Never! I’m gay as the fourth of July and I’ll sing _Faith_ as much as I fucking please!” Levi shouted back with relish.

Eren cracked up, and actually relented to singing along in the second chorus, hand entwined with Levi's. They pulled up outside an apartment block and Levi climbed out of the car. Eren did the same and was a little shocked when Levi addressed him with a solemn look.

“Eren, I hope you realise what this means.”  
“Huh?”  
“Eren Jaeger, you just held a gay man's hand and sang along to George Michael. Congratulations and welcome to the queer club, baby gay!”

Eren huffed and jabbed him in the ribs, before allowing himself to be pulled up to Levi’s apartment on the third floor.  
He was a little apprehensive at entering, but walking in the room he could sense it was irrevocably Levi’s. The decor was sparse but tasteful, and painstakingly neat. He had a piano at the far side of the room and a small television opposite the navy couch. 

Levi immediately slid off his jacket, not the leather one unfortunately, and hung it over the back of the sofa. “I’m taking a shower, make yourself as comfortable as you know I’m okay with.”

With that he disappeared and Eren sat on the sofa, kicking his shoes off and getting bored within moments, shuffling off to explore the rest of the apartment. There was a small kitchenette running off the side of the lounge, and opposite the bathroom where Levi had just entered, a door. Eren pushed the door open, and glanced around. 

In time, Eren knew he would catalogue every last thing about this room, but for now his vision tunnelled to the bed on the far corner of the room. As always after a shift, he was fucking exhausted and decided to lie over the spread and shut his eyes for a few minutes until Levi was done with his shower. 

He was seriously starting to believe that Levi had some form of OCD when it came to cleanliness. 

Eren dozed off for a few minutes, waking when Levi entered the room in a towel.  
“Oh, um, sorry I just uh-”

Levi just smirked as his discomfort and turned away from him before dropping his towel and tugging on a pair of briefs. 

Eren meant to look away, he really did. But Levi with rivulets of water moving down his alabaster skin was enough as it was. Then he had to fucking drop his towel.  
Every coherent sentence Eren had ever formed were chased from his mind into oblivion.  
He scarcely knew what he was doing as he crossed the room. 

Levi turned around and they were nose to nose, and then Eren was grabbing his hair and mashing their lips together. Levi reciprocated, their mouths clashing and fighting for dominance as every ounce of Eren’s physical desperation and emotional desire was pushed from his veins and into the heat of the kiss.  
Levi drew back for a moment to grab the hem of Eren’s t-shirt and pull it over his head, taking his moment of disorientation as an excuse to push him backwards onto the bed and straddle his waist.

Eren took a moment to gather his bearings, gazing up at Levi with pupils blown and mouth kissed raw. Every nerve ending in his body was craving more. He tugged Levi down towards him for another passionate kiss, groaning into his mouth at the slight friction it provided. 

Levi took this as some kind of challenge, grinning and ruthlessly grinding his ass down Eren’s crotch. Eren gasped and moaned more, eyes drinking in the image of Levi’s mostly naked body lavishing his own. His erection was prominent through the briefs he had donned and without a thought Eren reached out and trailed a palm over the bulge, the shuddering groan he earned in response adding to the pressure in his own pants.

Eren took the initiative and flipped them over a little clumsily, taking a moment to shuck his jeans and launch himself onto Levi, their bodies moving on instinct against each other. He bit down on Levi’s shoulder and lost himself in the sensation of the dark hickeys being sucked into his neck. 

Their legs were tangled together and they both simultaneously gasped as their cocks slid together in a way that made every inhibition Eren had ever held flee his mind. They grinded against each other shamelessly, Levi scraping his manicured nails down Eren’s shoulder blades and torso in a way that made him throw his head back and hiss in pleasure. 

Eren could feel the coil in his gut tightening and he claimed Levi’s mouth with his own, furiously moving his hips as he came with a moan, which was partially a garbled string of profanities and Levi’s name. He felt Levi stiffen beneath him and a second gush of fluids between them. 

He flopped onto his side, orgasm-weary and feeling the best he had in months. Levi chuckled darkly and kissed his forehead before standing up to leave the room.  
Eren grabbed his hand and looked at him, a thousand words trapped in his wide eyes.  
“I’m not leaving you to sleep alone, brat. Just getting something to clean us up.”

He gestured at his stomach which was slick with semen, and Eren glanced down at his own which was similarly doused before blushing. His eyes slid closed for a few moments until Levi re-entered and chucked at flannel at him. 

Eren wiped the smeared stripes of cum off his torso before setting the flannel on the floor beside the bed and allowing Levi to envelop him in an embrace. He shuffled around to face Levi, absorbing the tranquil expression he wore and how goddamn sexy his hair looked when it was hopelessly mussed up as opposed to it’s usual combed demeanor. 

"I lied." Levi mumbled, "that was the real initiation into the queer club, and you passed with flying colours."  
Eren snorted with laughter and kissed Levi once more before letting sleep overwhelm him, arms still wrapped around the smaller man’s hips.


	12. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favourite idiot gets his shit together a little :)  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it!

EREN’S POV

Eren woke up in an unfamiliar room. He panicked a little before flailing onto his side and coming nose to nose with a sleeping Levi. Then the memories of the previous night rolled over him like a wave and Eren understood where he was. 

The bed was warm and he scooted closer to Levi, unwilling to ruin the moment of domestic bliss just yet. His shuffling awoke Levi, who groaned a little before slinging his forearm over his eyes.  
“Fuck, what time is it?”

Eren checked his watch. “Half past eleven apparently.”  
Levi hummed and tugged Eren a little closer, pressing a kiss against his temple and indulging himself in a moment of unabashed affection before getting up and pulling his comforter with him in a cape-like fashion, before dragging Eren up with him. 

“You,” he said whilst poking Eren in the bare chest, “need a goddamn shower my friend. Bathroom’s across the hall, and the shower itself isn’t a time machine in terms of complexity. You can use my shampoo and shit. I’ll go make us some breakfast.”

He kissed Eren again, this time on the mouth before swooping out of the door and off down the hall, somehow making briefs and a comforter look majestic. Eren stood for a moment, the wave of remembrance still lapping at his ankles. He and Levi had.. sex? He didn’t think that quite coined it, since no things had gone in any, uh, other things. 

He shook it off and went for a shower, stripping out of his boxers and hopping into the cubicle. Levi had lied again, the shower was an absolute fucking riddle to turn on but Eren managed it, washing his hair and lathering his skin with soap that smelt like Levi’s always did; a combination of liquorice, cedar and vanilla. 

He stepped out of the shower once he was done washing, and glanced in the mirror.  
Oh fuck.  
Eren’s neck was glazed in purple and red lovebites, and if he twisted he could tell his back was a red lattice from where Levi had raked his nails down it. He didn’t mind that much, beyond the obvious jibes he’d get from his friends he almost felt good that everyone would know he was claimed, souvenirs from his night with Levi were something he didn’t mind at all.

Besides the way they looked, a shiver ran down his spine when he thought about the sensation of getting them, which his mind intrinsically linked to the feeling of Levi desperate and solid against him. 

Eren quelled those thoughts and pulled his boxers back on, balling up the towel and pushing it through his damp hair. He had planned on making a beeline for Levi’s room and putting some clothes on before he embarrassed himself, but the smell once he entered the hall deterred him.

From the kitchenette emanated the heart-stopping odour of pancakes, coffee and cigarette smoke. Pretty much all of Eren’s favourite things, plus Levi was over there. Thoughts of getting dressed or whatever totally fled his mind as he walked into the kitchenette and grabbed one of the steaming mugs of coffee on the side and sidled round to hook his chin over Levi’s head and his arms around his bare waist. He admired the slew of tattoos which stretched their way across the smaller man’s back before he began talking.

“You lied to me, it’s easier to get wasted on mouthwash than use that shower, and believe me I had to try that once.”  
“You’re a fucking retard, Eren.” Levi sighed, flipping the final pancake off the pan and onto a plate.  
“It wasn’t my fault! It was either that or hold hands with Jean non-stop for a day, and back then I couldn’t even spent ten minutes around him without trying to stab him with something or another..”

Levi chuckled at that and leant back into his embrace, sudden tenderness seeping in his obsidian eyes. Eren felt a jolt of attachment to him he had never felt for anyone before, and blurted out what had been bugging him since the previous day.

“Levi, am I your boyfriend?”

He immediately felt like a total dick, but Levi took it in his stride, turning around to look Eren in the eye. 

“Well, I feel ‘lovers’ is a little too much of a sordid term for what we have going, and no-one under the age of forty-two uses the word ‘partners’, so yeah, I guess ‘boyfriend’ is the most appropriate.”  
Eren couldn’t control the grin that spread across his face at those words.

Levi snorted and grabbed his cup of coffee from the counter. “You’re such a fucking homo Eren, and you’ve never even had a dick in you.”  
Eren put it down to his sudden adrenaline-filled happiness that he replied “Yet” along with a wink. 

Levi almost choked to death on his coffee, and Eren almost cracked a rib from laughing at his reaction. 

JEAN’S POV

Jean felt better physically than he had in the last few days. After his rude rehabilitation at Reiner, Armin and Bertolt’s hands, he had taken the initiative to take a shower, ventilate his room from the smoky fog that had overrun it and take off Marco’s sweater. He had ended up sleeping in it, but cut himself down to only one pill of Ambien. 

Baby steps, right? 

Jean had decided he couldn’t stomach the awkward car journey in the back of Bertolt’s truck with Marco and ended up calling Mikasa to ask for a lift tonight, which was a little awkward and totally pointless because as it transpired the piece of shit had broken down, stranding Eren at work.  
She had amended things by saying that Hanji was picking up Eren and his ‘work friend’ (she said that in a way he could only assume was meant to infer inverted commas rather than overprotective sibling venom), and she could give him a lift out too. 

Emotionally, Jean was still tied up in painful knots. He didn’t know what to say to anyone to explain his absence from their usual day-to-day hanging out, let alone how he was going to explain himself to Marco.

He resisted the urge to pop a pill to soothe his nerves, instead lighting a cigarette and watching some Magnum PI which was totally failing to capture his attention. It felt odd to put time into his appearance after an extended period of not giving a shit but he persevered, hopping into his leather pants and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. 

He took a moment to adjust his lip piercings before applying a little gel to his hair, making the two-tones contrast even more than usual. Jean felt much more himself now, ashing the last of his cigarette and half dying from fright when the frantic beeping of a car horn began outside.

He decided on donning his Doctor Martens, he had got a pair after Armin’s constant insistence that they were a big deal in the UK, and they looked badass besides. Grabbing his patched denim jacket he left the house, almost forgetting his keys and cigarettes in anticipation. 

Hanji had a decent-sized campervan, she was driving and waved enthusiastically to him. Erwin, sat beside her, gave Jean his usual charming smile and gestured for him to get in the back.  
He obliged, sliding open the side door and hopping in. Already inside were Annie and Mikasa. 

“Yo.” He muttered in greeting, sitting down beside Annie.  
“Hey horseface” she said in reply, offering him the last two tokes on her cigarette as a commiseration for her name-calling.

Mikasa called up front, “hey guys, we’ve got to pick up Eren and Levi now then we can head out.”  
Jean focused on not throwing up. His stomach felt like a whirl of anxiety, first they had to get Jaeger and whoever the other person was, then he would be seeing Marco.

No backing out now, no avoiding him. The drive passed him by in a haze of Mikasa and Annie’s wordless conversations and his own heartbeat hammering away in his ears. 

They pulled up somewhere downtown, and the door slid open again.  
Jaeger got in, as did the resident dwarf apparently. Jean hadn’t lost enough of his spirit to not comment on that.  
“Wow, are you like a really buff girl scout?”

The guy started fucking daggers at him. Honestly, if a pair of eyes could slice you in half, these would be the ones.  
“I’m Levi,” he said, voice surprisingly gravelly. “Eren’s boyfriend.”

Jean’s whole universe did an abrupt one-eighty. Holy shit. Jaeger was blushing like a twelve-year-old confronted by his crush as Levi slung an arm around his shoulders.  
“Jesus Jaeger! You could’ve given us a little heads-up that you batted for the other team!” He exclaimed. Eren’s eyes flashed, not to be outdone.  
“You’re one to talk Kirstein, how’s Marco when you aren’t gagging on his dick?”

Jean spluttered and began to say something not-very-flattering about the size of Eren’s manhood when a quiet baritone cut across him.  
“You were right Eren, he does remarkably resemble a horse.”  
Jean aborted mission and just hung his head in his hands. Fucking Jaeger and his rude midget boyfriend. 

Mikasa was sat rigidly beside him, he eyes boring holes into Levi.  
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the fucking pygmy commented.  
“Just so we’re clear-”  
“Oh Mikasa no,” Eren tried to interrupt.  
“-if you hurt my little brother, I can guarentee they won’t find the body.”

Levi leant back and smirked at her, nodding imperceptibly. Jean was pretty sure it was just a crazy-neurotic people thing because he never could pull off the ‘communicating without words thing’. Well he did with Marco, but then he didn’t even know that his every action was screaming ‘I love you’, ‘never leave me’, you know, cool bro things like that.

The van came to halt, and then Jean knew it was officially crunch time. Time to bite the fucking bullet, c’mon Kirstein. Mikasa slid the door open and hopped out, sounds of Bertolt’s boombox filtering into the cramped space. 

The others all filed out and Annie fixed Jean with a hard look. “Get a move on idiot, problems don’t fix themselves.” He took one last bracing breath and got out of the campervan.

The scene before him was one he was used to, people taking a break from dancing to AC/DC to greet the newcomers, handing out beers and pulling them into semi-sober hugs. Bertolt and Reiner were bopping their heads along to the music as they chatted to Annie

‘ _Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come but I was already there.._ ’

Ymir and Krista were cuddled together as usual, flanking Armin who was already chatting to Erwin. Levi and Eren were cracking open beers and talking to Connie, who was being pestered by Sasha to come dance with her.

‘ _Cause the walls started shaking, the earth was quaking, my mind was aching, and we were making it_ ’

Then Jean’s vision tunnelled. Marco. He was there, walking to stand beside Bertolt, already laughing as he overheard a snippet of their conversation. Jean’s mind turned to paste.  
Marco looked tired, and a little pale, but he was still himself- perfect and freckled and always a little taller than Jean no matter how platformed his shoes were.

He stared unashamedly and caught Marco’s eye. Marco’s face dropped into an expression of astonishment, then fury. “What the FUCK have you been playing at?” He shouted. All other talk ceased. Every pair of eyes was on them and Jean felt rooted to the ground. His mouth was filled with cotton wool.

“I’m talking to you asshole, what is your fucking issue? So I’m gay and you disappear off the fucking radar for days at a time? Ignore my calls? Don’t answer the door when I’m sat there at midnight knocking like a desperate little idiot?” With every demanding question Marco got closer, anguish and hurt burning in his dark eyes. 

“Marco, I-” Jean’s voice cracked beyond redemption. They were nose to nose at this point. All he could see and smell was Marco and it felt better than seeing his mom after a shitty day at school as a kid, or the feeling of liberation when he got a piercing done, or the rush of pride when he aced a game at the arcade. He wanted this feeling to last forever.

Whilst he was thinking all this internally, he realised externally Marco was still yelling at him.  
“-and I just can’t do it Jean, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.” His voice then dropped to a murmur, meant only for Jean’s ears. “I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you.” 

His voice wavered and he moved away and Jean decided that the time was now. No more pussyfooting around and messing things up, he couldn’t let this golden opportunity evade him. He grabbed Marco’s shoulder, who had already turned his back to him. Before he could analyse everything he was about to do, Jean moved with the rush in his ears, spinning Marco around and grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in close. 

“So don’t pretend.” Jean growled before brashly crushing Marco’s mouth with his own, pouring every emotion he couldn’t contain into the kiss; all of his regret, his longing, his passion, his want, his fucking misery when Marco wasn’t there, and his love went crashing into the movement of his mouth, praying that it could convey how much he desperately needed Marco.

Marco froze from a moment, before kissing him back fiercely. One of his hands pushed into the small of Jean’s back and the other into the darker part of his hair. He consoled Jean, tongue winding into his mouth and brushing against his in a way that was almost sweet. 

'.. _Yeah you took me, yeah you shook me, all night long!_ '

They only broke apart when Connie coughed pointedly.


	13. Stone Cold Rhymin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys, unfortunately sometimes having a social life clashes with writing fanfiction :(  
> but never fear, here is the latest chapter- as always hope you enjoy!

CONNIE’S POV

Connie thought he knew the meaning of the word ‘tension’. He had been in plenty of uncomfortable situations before- like seeing Hannah at school the week after their ill-fated tryst in Jean’s basement, or the time he had to seduce Annie for a dare. (Spoiler, she shut him down pretty much off the bat with a knee to the ballbag.)

However some next level shit was going down that night in the desert, Jean and Marco locked eyes and then Marco started yelling. Connie had never seen Marco yell before, fuck, Connie had never even seen Marco angry before. He had snapped at him that night in The Pirripin, but this was insane, purple-faced, oh-jesus-his-lungs-are-gonna-explode-soon yelling. 

Connie almost wanted someone to intervene when they were nose-to-nose. Not him obviously, because he was approximately five foot nothing and would get twatted upside the head in seconds, having no effect in diffusing the situation and embarrassing himself thoroughly in the process. 

So Marco kept shouting and Jean continued his lemon-like stance of staring at him, wide-eyed and like his mind had warped to light-speed. Connie’s gut swooped horrifyingly when Jean seized Marco by the collar.

 _Oh shit, oh shit he’s going to fucking headbutt him oh christ no guys no_ -

His internal panic was interrupted when Jean didn’t headbutt Marco, but rather aggressively kissed him. Like _aggressively_. Marco’s eyes bugged for a few seconds before he started kissing him back with fire to match. 

Connie’s jaw dropped like someone had attached an anvil to the stubble on his chin, (which he had, by the way, fuck you Eren.) And there they made out, everyone too shell-shocked by the abrupt turnaround of the situation to react. As the final chords of that lame rock song which Reiner loved petered out, Connie decided to take action.

Well, not action-action. He just cleared his throat loud enough that the canoodling pair broke apart, looking more than a little flustered. There was a pregnant pause as everyone stared, Marco stared at Jean a little awed, and Jean just gave Marco an abashed little smile. That would have been sweet if not for the confusing homo-erotic circumstances.

Thank the lords above for Reiner and his poor external filter once he had a few beers down his neck. “It’s about fucking time!” He exclaimed from beside Bertolt, who he then elbowed and said “Mr Bertl-Turtle, your aqueous highness owes me ten dollars. I _told_ you there was homo going on in the Jean-Marco department.” 

Bertolt shrugged and rummaged for his wallet and the rest of the party recovered from their gay-induced stupification.  
“Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming!” Connie blurted, and Sasha nodded before cat-calling out, “Woohoo! Looks like the horse finally found a cowboy!” 

The cheering caught on and Jean blushed to a blood-vessel rupturing vermillion before pulling Marco towards him again and pulling him into an embrace, wrapping his tan arms around his waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck. “You guys are dicks!” He groaned against Marco’s skin, who to his credit just giggled and fixed his paler arms around Jean’s back.

Quickly the group shrugged off their surprise, going back to their conversations and cracking open more drinks, Connie was close enough to hear Marco talk when the couple disentangled themselves. “I am still intensely pissed at you Kirstein, but right now that is buried under me being fucking deliriously happy so let’s go get drunk with those dicks and be nauseatingly gleeful in our honeymoon period.”

Jean clearly agreed with gusto as he pulled Marco in for another kiss, this time languid and less angst-driven than before. Connie then diverted his attention away from the homo over there to the homo that Sasha was engaged in conversation with. Eren and his new boyfriend had their arms around each other, and Connie was suddenly very suspicious that his gaydar was a busted instrument.

Okay he could tell that Krista and Ymir were doing the do from about two million miles away, like honestly if he was chilling on a deck chair located on the sun and they were together on Neptune, he would be about to pick up those lesbian vibes. 

Reiner he hadn’t had the foggiest about, besides a lingering recollection that since the ill-fated romance with that mega-bitch Hitch he never hooked up with any girls anywhere, or generally talked to anyone much who wasn’t Bertolt. Jean and Marco were always a little too intensely bromantic, but Eren was a total wild card. 

Then again, Eren’s new man-friend was very pretty in a way that even Connie could appreciate and he was confident that he was hetero-normative and not really into anyone besides the girl that was excitedly talking to said man-friend at that moment about the latest Judge Dredd installation. 

Connie wasn’t really into the ultra-nerdy shit that her and Bertolt yakked about non-stop, but even he could dig Dredd. However it didn’t seem a good time to butt in so he shot Eren a grin and a fare-thee-well nod before hanging a left. He dodged around Mikasa and Annie who were having one of their fervent wordless conversations and headed towards the cooler.

As always it had totally failed at keeping it’s contents cool, but Connie helped himself to a beer anyway, absently tapping his foot along to the beat of a new song. It was Young MC, and boy oh fucking boy did Connie love Young MC. 

He meandered his way back to Sasha and the others, rapping along to the beat under his breath. “ _I try to sit down so I can take some notes, but I can't read what the kid next to me wrote, and if that wasn't enough to make my mornin' complete, as I try to get up I find there’s gum on my seat_ ”

Connie smiled to himself, oh yeah, he was still mad at spitting bars. Once he had a few more drinks in him he’d challenge Sasha to a rap-battle for sure. He had recovered from his previous stuttering and bumbling around her to just occasionally blushing when she totally violated his personal space and only mooning a little when she did something so unbelievably Sasha that it made his stomach screw up in a way which made his whole body feel warm with affection for her.

He was basically okay with unrequited love, so long as he still had her, he figured it would all be okay. Connie plucked up the courage to introduce himself to Eren’s pretty and very very intimidating boyfriend. “Yo, I’m Connie.” he said with a smile and outstretched hand.

“Levi.” Wow, this dude means business when it comes to deadpan, Connie thought, but appreciated it when he extracted himself from Eren to shake his hand and nod. Sasha tugged at Connie’s sleeve, stretching her eyes wide and pouting in a way that he knew that she fuckin’ knew meant she could wheedle anything out of him.

“Connieee, I wanna play truth or dare! Or have a rap-off or-” Connie cut off her there with a poke to the cheek. “No way am I pissed enough to rap with you just yet, so, truth or dare anyone?”  
He raised his voice a little at the end and was met with a myriad of cheers and a groan from Jean. 

“Aw don’t be like that horse-face, this is no time to be a pussy!” Eren teased, eliciting a grinding of teeth from Jean. _Oh brilliant, now those fucking buffoons are going to be trying to one-up each other all night_ , Connie thought.

The extended gang organized themselves into a dilapidated circle. Reiner argued it was more of an oval, but was ignored in favour of the game pressing ahead.  
“Alright!” Erwin announced with relish, “who’s gonna start?”

Connie glanced around the oval, circle, fuck it, whatever. No one looked keen to volunteer, so he decided to bite the bullet and show them all up. “I’ll do it” he called to no one in particular, waving his rapidly emptying beer to illustrate his point, “dare me up, losers!”

A moment of confederacy raced around the circle before Armin called out “You’ve gotta do a body shot! Off.. Reiner!” Cheers erupted and Reiner hung his head, but Connie was the undisputed King of Dares thank you very much, and a little thing like licking a person wasn’t going to deter him from his throne. 

He sucked the streak of lemon gin off Reiner’s abdomen with little complaints, even shooting him a salacious wink afterwards which caused another round of cheers and Jean to call out “It’s catching guys! Connie’s the next one who turns!”

Connie flipped him off and then it went to Hanji who was sat on his left. She also picked dare, and because she was batshit crazy agreed to removing an article of Annie’s clothing with her teeth. She was also batshit talented, as she proved by single-toothedly removing Annie’s belt and skinny jeans.

Next it was Marco, who was too sweet and meek to pick anything but truth. As it transpired he wasn’t so meek as he admitted he had worn lingerie before and Connie tried to pretend he couldn’t see Jean mentally picturing that before casting a look over Marco like he wanted to eat him up there and then. 

Jean picked dare as always, and at the demand of some devious sod was challenged to dirty-talk someone. He shamelessly pulled Marco onto his lap and began muttering things in his ear which made him progressively blush more and more until his mouth dropped clean open and he squeaked. This caused another round of raucous laughter, but Connie didn’t miss Marco clamber off Jean’s lap and shift in a way which he knew was optimal for shielding boners.

The game progressed thusly, the main highlights being Mikasa and Bertolt swapping underwear, Armin having to spend the rest of the game in Erwin’s lap and Levi giving Eren a suspiciously expert strip-tease which even Connie had to admit was pretty hot to watch. 

It came to Eren’s turn and he made eye contact with Jean. The stakes amped up a little, childhood rivalries never really forgotten despite the fact they were basically friends now. He was challenged to lick Bertolt’s foot, heel to toe. He fucking did it, man. Cheers were given and he mockingly offered Levi a kiss who simply rolled his eyes and flicked him in the side of the head.

Finally the game had come almost full-circle and it was Sasha’s turn. Connie may have been the King of Dares, but Sasha was his Dare Queen- a woman totally without fear or dignity. As per usual she opted for dare and Reiner, the evil, vengeful bastard that he was called out “Give a lap dance to.. Connie!”

Connie’s blood turned to fire and ice all at once. Okay mostly he wanted Sasha because she was awesome and funny and his best friend, but that did not at all negate the fact that he thought she was insanely hot. If he popped a stiffy now, he was going to be right in the shit. Sasha shot him a grin which probably wasn’t supposed to be sultry, but indubitably was.

He was sat with his legs splayed and his arms propping him up so she wasted no time in straddling his waist, unclasping her hair and tossing it around her shoulders whilst running her hands down her neck. Everyone whooped and whistled, and Connie knew he should be cracking up and wiggling his eyebrows at her but he was too fucking transfixed to do a goddamn thing right now. 

Sasha then stirred her hips a little, causing friction to run down Connie’s nether regions and her tank top to ride up just a little, showing her tanned hips and the green lace at the top of her panties. Connie tried to think of everything gross in the universe. Sewage, grandparents, his brother’s housekeeping abilities, but nothing could distract him from Sasha in his lap, now actually grinding on him, running her hands down his thighs and grinning impishly at him.

Connie felt like he was going to fucking combust with the effort of not succumbing to his erection and/or dragging Sasha into the most needy and animalistic kiss he had ever given anyone. After a few more seconds she giggled again and hopped off, grabbing his head under her arm and pecking him on the temple before grabbing her beer and acting like the whole universe hadn’t just imploded.

REINER’S POV

Okay, so Reiner did feel a little bad about daring Sasha to tease Connie like that, but the stricken look on Connie’s face as it happened kind of made it worthwhile. Seriously, the boy had a face like he had just witnessed the second coming. Or maybe it was the first coming, in his pants that was. 

Even Reiner’s brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t so bad he would say that out loud, so he stifled his smirk and let the game roll on. Next it was Connie, who still looked pretty discomposed. He went for dare, because not even shell-shock could discourage the self-proclaimed ‘King of Dares’. Reiner kept his mouth shut for this one, but nodded along when Levi said Connie had to play a round of spin the bottle.

He ended up making out with Hanji for a few seconds, which everyone cheered at- except Sasha, Reiner noticed. He filed that away for a later time, before the game moved on. Things didn’t get interesting until his turn, when he had to (unoriginally) spin the bottle. He did so, fairly drunk so not worried about who it landed on. 

It was Bertolt, who went beet-red and panicked for a few seconds before Reiner pulled him in for a kiss. It only lasted a matter of seconds, but Reiner felt an odd little rush from the messy meeting of tongues and lips. He figured he needed to get laid sharpish.

Then it was Bertolt himself’s turn, and he deliberated a while before choosing ‘truth’. Erwin immediately arched his eyebrow and asked if he’d ever thought of anyone in this very circle in a sexual context, with Armin still nestled in his lap. Bertolt sweated some more before nodding and refusing to say any more on the matter. 

Reiner did a little more filing and the game dissolved soon afterwards, dancing re-starting and Hanji challenging various idiots into doing shots with her. Ymir and Levi just about kept pace, but Jean, Eren and Connie were played for chumps and Bertolt had learned better than to try to compete with the bizarre bespectacled woman. 

Reiner passed on the competitive drinking, sipping lemon gin with Annie and Mikasa, who were surprisingly lively once they had a bit to drink. They appeared rather a motley crew, Annie still hadn’t bothered to put the jeans Hanji had stripped her of back on, and Mikasa was only wearing Bertolt’s boxers on her lower half, which were in her defense like a pair of cotton shorts on her. 

At about three AM everyone was tuckered the fuck out, and Krista and Erwin who had only sipped at beers the whole evening dropped everyone at their various homes; Jean and Marco to Jeans (“Oo-er” Eren commented loudly as they vacated the campervan), Mikasa, Eren and Levi were all staying in the Jaeger household and as usual Reiner and Bertolt slumped back into his place, giggling like fools and Bertolt taking out several chairs and coat-stands with his unwieldy long limbs. 

They worked as a team to scale the stairs, Reiner’s strength and Bertl’s determination pulling them through eventually. Collapsing into bed, Reiner couldn’t be assed to make up Bertolt’s mattress for him, so just wrapped his arms around his gangly frame and pulled him into his bed, not releasing his grip even after he had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	14. Rocket Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late update, the last few days have been hella hectic for me :(  
> This chapter is more filler than killer, but I hope you enjoy the fluff enough to carry yourselves over until I get the ball rolling again with tomorrow's update- as always, thanks for your time :)
> 
> EDIT: I decided to combine chapters 14 and 15 because they're both the same time frames and pretty short, so enjoy the new and improved chapter 14! I promise I'll be getting back into my rhythm of regularly updating tomorrow, apologies everyone x x x

REINER’S POV

Reiner automatically woke up at 10:30, his internal clockwork as precise as ever despite his hangover. He woke up to a face full of fabric, alarmed until he realised he had fallen asleep with his face smushed into Bertolt’s chest, and the fabric was infact Bertolt’s cotton tank top. 

(Reiner refused to call them ‘wife beaters’, he thought it sounded shifty as fuck and besides that a rude stereotype) 

He lay there for a little, trying to asitane whether he had drooled in his friend’s abdomen or not. He hoped for not because it was kind of embarrassing, although Bertolt probably wouldn’t give a shit. 

Reiner could suss out from their position that they had fallen asleep spooning, but through the course of the night Bertolt had flipped into his other side and Reiner had somehow shuffled downwards into this rather effeminate position of cuddling. 

He felt a little awkward, but not so much so that he felt the need to move. It was warm, comfortable and Bertolt smelled of bonfire, gin, and for some reason, caramel. Their knees were trapped together in a bizarre gridlock of Bertolt’s absurdly long limbs and his own muscular legs which had wound themselves together during their sleep. 

But, bygones being bygones, Reiner’s head hurt and his limbs ached faintly and this was a very cosy position so he didn’t want to move just yet. Thinking about it, this was probably the most intimate thing to happen to Reiner since he and Hitch had split up in February. 

Their relationship had been a volatile one at the best of times, Hitch was mean and callous once you got to know her, and he quickly tired of her snarky and indifferent ways. The sex was alright though in Reiner’s memory, and since then he had only made out with a few people at parties and bars. 

In fact, he had danced with a woman and they briefly got to first base when they were at The Pirripin the previous Sunday, but that was probably counteracted by the fact he had been grinded on by a fair few men that night too. 

Bertolt stirred a little in his sleep then woke up, immediately yelping in surprise at Reiner’s close proximity. Reiner just winced as the high-pitched sound made his building headache twinge a little and poked him in the collar bone.

“Morning to you too Bert-Turtle.”

Reiner hadn’t noticed that Bertolt had his arm slung over his hip and his hand curled around the nook of his back until he removed it, and he made another indignant noise at the sudden caress of cool air which rolled over the now-exposed patch of skin. Bertolt used the very same hand to cuff Reiner around the back of the head.

“Don’t call me that, penis.” He retorted, before sitting up a little and fishing a cigarette out of the crushed packet which had been in his back pocket. Bertolt lit it and grabbed the blue plastic ashtray from Reiner’s nightstand, which he kept in here in anticipation for Bertolt staying over every other night. 

He balanced the ashtray in his lap, and Reiner decided to dislodge himself from Bertolt’s chest in favour of slumping on his stomach next to him.  
“So, Jean and Marco huh?” He said, reaching out to take a drag on Bertolt’s cigarette who obliged.

Bertolt considered for a moment before speaking. “I’m happy for them, I think it’s a good thing they’re working things out. Also,” he slapped Reiner again, this time on the back, “That is for doing that to Connie! It was funny don’t get me wrong, but the poor kid looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.” 

Reiner giggled for a moment at the memory. “Yeah, I know, I’ll make it up to him I promise. I just don’t want to see him get all mopey and sad after not taking the initiative to ask Sasha out himself when she gets a boyfriend.” 

“Her and Erwin’s dancing looked pretty intense the other night,” Bertolt commented.  
“Yeah,” Reiner countered, “but did you see her face when Connie had to make out with Hanji? Poor girl looked like she’d been sucker-punched; I don’t think it’s a one-sided thing Bertl.”

Bertolt just hummed thoughtfully, losing himself in his thoughts whilst Reiner dozed. He was pretty exhausted, and wasn’t looking forward to getting up anytime soon. 

An hour or so passed in this fashion, until Bertolt decided he was bored of thinking and threw off the duvet in favour of going for a shower. Reiner forced himself into a state of walking dead to the kettle downstairs and made himself a liberal cup of black coffee, before fixing up one for Bertolt- he liked it with a splash of milk and two sugars. 

Blasphemy that Reiner could and would never understand; he liked his coffee as dark as Levi’s glares. Then again, Levi was actually a pretty cool guy once you got chatting to him and he had a few drinks. Last Reiner had seen, he and Eren was getting uncomfortably handsy in the back of Hanji’s van and Mikasa had been looking horrified at the prospect of sleeping in a house with them. 

Bertolt came downstairs with his hair still moist but clad in jeans and flannels like usual. Reiner quietly went up and took his own shower, conscious not to wake his sleeping father who had probably only gotten home from his night-shift a few hours before.  
He washed briskly, feeling the pressure in his temples ease a little at the soothing touch of warm water. He mentally made plans to sort out his friend’s shit and he shampooed his hair, deciding he would talk to Sasha about the Connie issue, albeit subtly- he didn’t want to fuck up the little guy’s chances or anything. 

Reiner also resolved to ask Armin about his intentions with Erwin, they seemed practically inseparable and Armin had no problem with curling up in the older man’s lap for a fairly long while last night. 

The faucet whined a little as he turned the shower off and headed back downstairs, his headache abating after the water and coffee had some time to work their magic. 

JEAN’S POV

In his drunken idiocy, Jean had forgotten to close the curtains to his windows. This meant that when the sun rose the room was flooded with pools of buttery light, the harsher tones still shrouded by the horizon. 

Jean’s eyes flickered open at the sudden influx of light bearing down on them and he groaned faintly, appreciating the golden coils of sunlight which danced around the room and extending an arm upwards to trail his fingers through the column of dust-motes the aureolin intrusion illuminated.

Marco shifted by his side and reached his hand up too, entwining their fingers together in the streak of shimmering specks. 

Jean almost did a double take, before the memories of last night came back to him in a rush.  
The desert, Marco yelling, a game of dares, but most importantly Marco kissing him back. He felt a sharp thrill in his chest as he remembered that, quickly pulling their tangled hands towards him and pressing a kiss against Marco’s knuckle, just to reassure himself it had all really happened.

Marco chuckled sleepily at his sudden display of affection and wound his arms around Jean’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together and in return kissed the crook of Jean’s neck. It was a slow, unhurried brush of lips to skin and it made every inch of Jean crave more.

He spoke, voice muffled from against his collarbone. “Jean Kirstein, you never cease to amaze me.”  
Jean laughed at that, but felt the underlying serious tone in Marco’s voice. After the revelry and (literally) gay abandon of last night, they needed to talk things over. He sighed and extracted himself from Marco’s grasp just enough to look at him in the eye. 

His heart did a short jig at how simply perfect Marco looked in the morning light, the tawny hues elucidating his dark freckles and gentle ochre eyes. Jean decided that he firmly did not want to fuck this up, so he forced himself to take a few serene breaths before starting.

“Marco listen, I cocked up really bad. It’s probably pretty obvious by now that I didn’t run away like that because I’m a homophobic dickbag, it was because I realised how much I like you and I couldn’t stand the idea of you wanting to be with someone else.”

Marco obliged and listened, nodding encouragingly.

“I’m sorry for that, it probably pissed you off to no end and I didn’t mean to be so selfish.”  
Jean stopped, not really sure where to take it from there. Luckily Marco was good with this kind of thing.  
“I forgive you Jean, sorry for trying to be cryptic and not just talking straight with you. Or rather, gay with you.”

Jean snorted at the terrible joke and pushed his face into Marco’s hair, wanting this moment of simple compassion to never end. 

“But I guess the question now is, where do we go from here?”

Jean was a little confused by the question.  
“Like I assume a guy like you wouldn’t want to be tied down with a guy like me and-”  
Jean halted that stream of bullshit by pressing his mouth against Marco’s.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said once he had detached from the kiss. “I don’t want to be tied down with a guy like you, I need to be tied down by you. I want the whole nine-yards-boyfriend-thing. I want to take you out places and have you sleep over in my bed, I want to make all our friends uncomfortable by kissing you excessively in public, I want to take you to Homecoming and if anyone fucks with us we’ll kick their asses then slow dance to Elton John.”

The words came out in a clumsy mess, stumbling and tripping over one another, but Marco didn’t seem to care. His eyes were shining as he gazed at Jean like he had just told him he had figured out how to turn lead into gold or had finally beat Connie at limbo. 

“..Elton John?” Marco asked with a giggle and Jean shook his head.  
“Really? That’s all you gleaned from that? Not that I want to date you, but Elton John?”  
Marco just started giggling all over again, and Jean pulled him back into their embrace, rubbing salt into the wound by crooning some Elton John in his ear. 

“ _I think it's gonna be a long, long time ‘til touch down brings me round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh no, no, no_ ”

Marco sighed and called him a dweeb before indulging in another kiss. 

“You might suck at singing ballads, but even so I would be honoured to be your nine-yards Mr Kirstein.”

Jean’s heart fucking sang in a way he had thought it never would again. If he had a way of expressing it in a way that wasn’t just a sweet pressure in his ribcage, he was pretty sure it would echo around Madison Square Garden in it’s sheer velocity. 

Instead he just tried to kiss every freckle on Marco’s face, which made him laugh some more and half-heartedly swat at him, complaining that he couldn’t get back to sleep with Jean being a little shit like this. 

Unfortunately for him, one of Jean’s key talents was ‘being a little shit’, so he continued on his quest, even climbing on top of Marco and inadvertently straddling his waist. Just to prove his point Jean left a languid kiss on the final freckle he could spot, just left of Marco’s adam’s apple. In a fit of experimentation he dragged his teeth a little across the soft skin, and was surprised when Marco made a small noise of pleasure at the back of his throat. 

He was even more surprised at the little unconscious jerk of Marco’s hips as he did that, the reflex causing no small amount of friction in the boxer shorts Jean was clothed in. 

Jean’s initial instinct was to rock against Marco until that small noise became shouting and moaning, but he decided that he wanted to prove something to Marco and take this slow. 

He didn’t want to take Marco’s virginity in a fuck, for the first time ever Jean wanted to make love to someone. Genuine heartfelt love, because in his mind Marco deserved no less. 

Fighting his hormonal teenage reflexes, he flipped over and settled himself in Marco’s side, pressing a final kiss to a freckle he previously hadn’t seen below his earlobe before surrendering to the persuasive tug of sleep.

EREN’S POV

Eren woke up to a ruckus going on downstairs. He just sighed and pushed his face into the pillow, breathing deeply. The familiar scent of cedar flowed into his nose, cloying and comforting. Levi's scent. Shit. Levi. Eren sat bolt upright. Kitchen, ruckus, Levi and Mikasa. His foggy mind did the maths and immediately hit code red.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.." Eren hissed under his breath, leaping out of bed and walking a few paces before looking down.  
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" he chanted again, pulling on a pair of boxers when he couldn't see his pyjama pants lying in their usual spot.

"Fuck fuck shit balls fuck" Eren repeated like a mantra as he hopped down the stairs two at a time, praying that when he entered his kitchen he wouldn't find his boyfriend mutilated, his sister bleeding from any orifices, or both.

He walked in, expecting a stricken war-zone. The room was different, but by different Eren meant reeking of Lemon Pledge and scrubbed within an inch of it's life. He and Mikasa didn't live like peasants or anything, but the place was in as good of a state as it could be expected to be when it's principle occupants were two teenagers in the middle of their summer vacation.

Levi and Mikasa were sat at the table, reading from an old issue of Mademoiselle and ashing their respective cigarettes in the same empty mug, the radio half-heartedly playing in the background.

Eren grunted to indicate his arrival, and they looked up. Out of habit Mikasa just returned the grunt and gestured towards the coffee machine. Levi actually stood to gave him a good morning kiss and chuckled at his bedraggled appearance. Eren scraped a hand through his bedhead, wondering why his hair couldn't fall perfectly parted like Levi's. 

"Morning brat, do you pair of idiots want pancakes or what?"  
Eren nodded exuberantly , and even Mikasa's eyes lit up a little at the prospect of a legitimate cooked breakfast. 

Judging by their close stance when he had entered Eren hoped the two most important people in his life were warming to each other, and would maybe even start to get on (besides Armin who wasn't an issue, because everyone got on with Armin)

Eren pressed a furtive kiss to Levi’s cheek as he busied himself getting out eggs, and then moved to join Mikasa at the table.  
“What’s with the citrus stink?”  
“Your boyfriend is insane. And an obsessive compulsive cleaner. But mostly insane.” She replied curtly, sipping on her coffee. 

“The place was filthy.” Levi protested flatly, “I’m just doing what any fucking civilised person would.”  
Eren rolled his eyes. “We aren’t that bad you know, only a few dirty dishes here and there.”  
He knew he had said the wrong thing as Levi span around to regard him with a stern look. “You two are fucking disgraceful you know that? I don’t understand how even neanderthals could live like this.”

Eren just flipped him off and went to help himself to a coffee.  
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Mikasa asked, finally crushing the cherry of her cigarette.  
“I’m afraid Eren and I have to be productive members of society today, work at 5 for us.”

Eren groaned and Levi shot him a wink.  
“It’s 60’s night though, so if you and your lame little friends want to come and make our jobs horrible feel free.” Mikasa looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding pensively.  
“I’ll go ring Annie about it now. I’m sure everyone will be interested though.”

With that she exited stage left, leaving Eren to sip at his coffee and Levi to poke at the batter he had poured into a pan.  
“Lame little friends?” Eren enquired “I think you like them, really.”  
Levi huffed in response.  
“Whatever, brat. Not sure Freckles and Horsey will make it though, they’re probably busy screwing like rabbits.”

Eren groaned in revulsion at the thought of Jean getting laid. “Ugh, don’t. Jean and I don’t fight as much now, but I still think he’s the ugliest motherfucker on this plane of existance.”  
Levi just smirked. “I reckon he’s a bottom and all, you know. Freckles is gonna have a field day on that a-”

Eren cut him off with a scream. He really really did not want to think about that.  
“Shut the fuck up you two!” Mikasa’s voice floated down from her room, where she was no doubt scheming with Annie.

Levi laughed at that, a real throaty chuckle which made Eren’s insides glow with affection. He stood up to swaddle the smaller man in his arms, pressing a kiss to where his shoulder met his collar bone.  
“Hey, are those my pyjama pants?” Eren asked with a frown, regarding the navy fabric brushing against his bare legs.

“Yup.” Levi replied, popping the ‘p’. “If you were wondering this is also a shirt I found on your floor. You do know there’s such thing as a wardrobe, right? Or a hamper? Clothes don’t have to go on the floor, amazingly enough.”  
Eren rolled his eyes at the sheer sass emanating from the man currently wearing the cotton pants he had owned since he was fourteen years old and a not-very-cool Led Zeppelin top, which was a hand-me-down from Reiner after he had a growth spurt and Eren didn’t.

Mikasa returned to the room, sitting and stretching out her back.  
“Annie’s good for tonight, so are Reiner and Bertl. They’ll ring around to figure out who else is coming.”  
“Cool,” Eren replied, sauntering over and taking a cigarette from her packet, which didn’t escape her notice.  
“You know Eren, at some point you are going to have to stop being such a fucking moocher.” 

“Tell that to Levi,” Eren responded, voice muffled by his attempts to light his smoke. “He’s stealing my stylish attire!”  
Levi just gave him the finger and brought over three plates laden with pancakes.  
He ate daintily, a vast juxtaposition to Eren who had the typical man-approach of trying to shove everything on the plate down his throat at once. Levi pushed back the lewd connotations of that sentence as he thought it, and focused on eating his own breakfast. 

CONNIE’S POV

Connie spent his morning in a state of total disarray. Every nerve in his body had been running on ‘hypersensitive’ since the ill-fated lapdance he had recieved last night and his body ached for relief, but he felt like jerking off over his best friend would be the last straw.

Actually getting himself off over Sasha would be the cut-off point for being able to go back to normal if this didn’t work out. He lay in bed until twelve, resisting the urge to move or think.  
Movement would bring about friction to his irritating case of morning wood, and every coherent string of thought he managed always ended up in the same destination; Sasha straddling his waist. Sasha grinding herself into his crotch. Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, Sasha.

Connie subconciously reached for his dick, and practically whimpered at the sensation of palming himself through the shorts he wore. He thought fuck it, whatever. Some male he was if getting his rocks off over someone meant he couldn’t look them in the eye afterwards. 

Ten minutes later, Connie felt like a very bad person. Although the pressure in his balls had eased, so hey, you win some you lose some. He cleaned himself up just in time, as the soiled tissues landed in the bin the phone started ringing. 

Leo had been and gone back to Trost, so the responsibility of getting the phone was therefore bequeathed to Connie.  
“Yo, Springer residence.” He quipped as he answered, seriously hoping it wasn’t Sasha. It was a little too soon to cope with that.  
Luckily some deity somewhere, probably the patron saint of sad horny teenagers decided to take pity on him. Bertolt’s voice sounded through the phone.

“Hey Connie, don’t suppose you wanna do something tonight? It’s 60’s night down at The Pirripin, and apparently that’s a laugh.”  
Connie considered for a moment. His hangover wasn’t so bad, and he still had money saved from working at the garage during their spring break, so a night out dancing to The Beatles and drinking copious amounts didn’t sound like a bad thing to have on the agenda.

“Yeah, yeah sure.. Meet at Annie’s at seven? As per usual?”  
“Uh huh, could you ring Jean to ask him if he wants to come? Okay thanks, bye!”  
Connie sighed and dialled Jean’s number, hoping he had won the pool Eren had set up last night. He had bet that Marco and Jean would be doing the deed that night, owing to their very drunk states and the fact that now Jean would probably settle for nothing less than the most romantic screw possible. 

Marco picked up the phone.  
“H-hello?”  
“Heyyy there Marco!” Connie jibed, “nice morning? No uh, ‘frickle-frackle’?”  
He could practicaly feel his blush eminating down the line.  
“No! No Connie.”  
“Just asking! So, do you two lovebirds fancy coming down to a 60’s night at The Pirripin? Tonight?”

He could vaguely hear the exchange going on in the Kirstein household.  
“-onight? Yeah sure why not.” Definitely Jean’s voice there.  
Aaand definitely gross kissing noises there. Great.

“Hey, Connie?” Marco again. “Jean and I would love to come.”  
Connie resisted the urge to make a very immature joke.  
“Okay cool; Annie’s at seven. Bye!”  
He hung up without adieu, the loved-up pair making him feel lonely. 

He spent the rest of the day dicking around doing nothing in particular, taking his usual route to Annie’s. Connie really wished he could get an opportunity to properly figure things out with Sasha; but he never really knew how. 

Was it best to make a bold gesture, like Jean? Something dramatic and romantic? Or would he be better off just explaining everything calmly and rationally when they were alone? Should he write her a sonnet, or 

Connie had no fucking clue. But then again, he wasn’t used to feeling much of an emotional range beyond ‘happy’, ‘bored’ and ‘stoned’. By the time he had arrived at Annie’s almost everyone was there. Armin was sat talking with Annie and Mikasa about something that they probably found facinating but Connie didn’t get, Jean was sat in Marco’s lap, curled into the slightly taller teenager’s chest and talking with Bertolt.  
Reiner and Sasha were on the other sofa, probably talking about twelve-sided dice or Batman or something. Sasha looked a little confused, and he expression didn’t clear when Connie entered with an exuberant “Yo all, who are we waiting for?”

“You, fucking idiot.” Jean retorted.  
“Oh Jean, clearly love’s tenderness hasn’t rubbed off on you yet. Although looks like something else might have done some ‘rubbing off’” Connie teased, shooting a wink to Marco who blushed.  
“Shut it cue ball.” Jean snapped, although he go a little red too. 

Connie chuckled and blew him a kiss before everyone stood to vacate the Leonhart premises and crowd into Bertolt’s truck. To Connie’s confusion, Sasha didn’t sit on the floor with him. She sat in Eren’s usual seat beside Marco and stared out at nothing in particular, looking conflicted.

Connie decided she was probably just on her period and not feeling so good, (they were best friends for fuck’s sake, Connie was under no illusions about the true nature of her ‘feminine problems’), and decided to distract himself by bothering Jean for the journey.


	15. Babylon's Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special Levi POV because @love_is_in_the_jager likes how I write him and I probably wouldn't still be writing this without them <3  
> Hope you like it guys~

LEVI’S POV

Pulling into the parking lot of The Pirripin, Levi felt the best he had in a long time. The afternoon sun had abated a little leaving the air warm and sweet, and his slender hand was wrapped in Eren's.

When Levi had first met Eren, he had thought him a typical teenage douchebag, annoying and hotheaded and incompetent. But after some time in his company, Levi had come to see him for the person he was beneath the brash exterior. In reality Eren was sweet, kind, and a little shy at times.

Glancing at him now, Levi could appreciate the way the afternoon light caught the aquamarine of Eren's eyes, igniting it into a spectrum of turquoise tones. Oh yeah, Eren was hella cute. Levi wasn’t a shallow guy or anything, but he had to admit that tanned skin and tousled dark hair was a weakness of his. 

He braked and reversed into his usual space slowly, not wanting the feeling of general unadulterated happiness to get away from him. After all Levi had done, seen and simply let happen, finally something good had blundered it’s way into his shitty life; casting celeste light over his future. 

Levi had felt less inclined to depression, violence and felt the hooked tug in his gut to snort a line just to calm himself down more and more infrequently. He remember the only thing he’d ever gleaned from physics AP classes- for every force there is an equal and opposite. Eren was his, he could rely on Eren to keep him balanced.

“C’mon get out of your head moron, we’ve got a 60’s themed party to throw!”  
Levi had been so submerged in optimistic thoughts he hadn’t noticed Eren untangle their hands and get out the car. He was currently leaning in through Levi’s open window, looking very pleased with himself after shouting in his ear. 

“Alright alright, brat..”  
Levi unbuckled his seatbelt, and quickly grabbed Eren’s chin to pull him into a kiss. He sucked on the younger man’s tongue gently, eliciting a soft moan from him. Levi ran his hands down from Eren’s face to his shoulders, giving no indication in their kiss before he pushed him, causing Eren to fall on his ass. Only then Levi got out of the car, stepping over Eren’s bewildered form and internally giggling at his surprise. 

Nothing entertained Levi more than getting one over on the adorable little shit.  
“You fucking dick!” Eren protested, standing up and brushing gravel from his ass.  
“Aw I’m sorry princess” Levi retorted, smiling a little at the pout which had spread it’s way across Eren’s face. He looked best when he was worked up, Levi thought personally.

Eren huffed and walked past him to enter the bar through the back door, bumping him with his hip as he went by. Levi followed, cheekily brushing the remainder of the dirt stuck to the seat of Eren’s pants off by the counter. 

“Filthy..” He tutted.  
Eren’s eyes flashed dangerously, seizing Levi by the hips and shoving him roughly into the bar.  
“Want to see how filthy I can really be?” He growled, right into Levi’s ear.

That guttural tone plus his body pushed aggressively up against Levi’s all culminated in his brain before rushing down to his dick. Eren was like flicking a switch sometimes, a sudden shift and he stopped blushing and started acting like a man who could deliver a hell of a ravishing. Levi fucking loved flicking that switch. 

He began letting his hands trace a definite path from the small of Eren’s back to his waist, but before he could go any further the doors banged open. Eren jumped away from him, his reckless abandon quickly being overridden by desire to not lose his job. Levi sighed and turned around to politely ask Erwin to fuck off. 

It wasn’t Erwin.

The man who entered was fairly tall, with dark brown hair shaved into an undercut. Levi felt like a dart of poisoned ice had struck him in the chest.  
“.. Levi?” the man asked, totally ignoring Eren.  
He felt like the whole universe had shifted down a gear. The moments were viscous and fluid, running together in an uncanny stupor of both Eren and the newcomer staring at him. He forced out a garbled string of words.

“Oluo, get the fuck out. Fucking leave now, I swear I don’t give a rat’s ass what bollocks you’ve got yourself in now, I-”  
“Levi. Please hear me out,” he began moving towards him, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

Levi thought he was going to fucking puke. This was too much, way too much for him to bear. His new life thundering into the old like a car crash, metal shrieking and splintering on impact in his ears. Oluo kept talking but Levi barely heard it.

“We need you back in Shiganshina, it’s all going to shit. All of it. Erd’s lost it, we don’t know what to do, c’mon boss. We can’t make it without you.”  
Levi snapped at being called ‘boss’ again for the first time in two years. “There’s a fucking reason I changed my number. Fucking moved out of town. I was done with all of this shit- no, no fucking way are you roping back into the shitty mess you’ve made of everything.”

He stormed out the way he had came, into the parking lot. Blood and dread roaring in his head and deafening him. How had they found him? After all the trouble he went through to disappear? The life he had so tentatively built for himself was fracturing and collapsing around him. If Oluo could find him, the Titans could. Levi lashed out at a dumpster, slamming his heel into the flimsy plastic and relishing in the crunch it made.

His job, his friends, Eren. Eren. Levi felt physically sick at the thought of any of those scum getting remotely near him. And they would, they would if they knew where he lived and worked. They could would gladly trash his apartment, threaten everyone close to him, and he didn’t even want to think about what they would do to Eren.

He could feel his chest tightening by the second. He couldn’t be here, he couldn’t break down in a place that left him so vulnerable. Levi could vaguely hear Eren yelling at Oluo, demanding to know who the fuck he was and why he had made Levi flip out like that. 

He couldn’t bear to hear any more, he couldn’t bear to give Eren the explanation he deserved. Levi swallowed down the bile which had rose in his throat like a venomous typhoon, and got in his car. He drove. Not home, not anywhere in particular; Levi just drove. 

JEAN’S POV

Jean didn’t have a particular opinion on the sixties.  
“I don’t remember being five years old!” He protested as Marco rolled his eyes and continued sifting through his clothes, intent on finding something that channelled the decade of ‘flower power’. 

“Whatever Jean, I’m still wearing the tie-dye” Marco retorted, pulling his sweater over his head to don a particularly garish blue and purple tie-dye t-shirt. Jean just snorted with derision, turning back the the mirror to muss up his hair. He didn’t bother with gel, putting in his lip piercings and smearing a little eyeliner into his waterline. 

Marco sidled up behind him and poked the small of his back. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”  
He was still bare chested, and in the mirror Jean could easily trace the diverts and ridges of his torso. Marco was in damn good shape actually, not to say Jean wasn’t. He just wasn’t.. Ab-defined like the taller boy.

Jean sighed dramatically, spinning on his heel to look at Marco square in the face.  
“Fine,” he said, before leaning out to press a kiss against his cheek. “But, I, am, going, to, whine, all, night.” He punctuated every word with another kiss, working his way towards Marco’s mouth. 

Marco blushed a little, before taking the initiative and kissing Jean on the lips, sucking gently on the metal hoops he wore through the lower one as he deepened the kiss. Jean was getting into this something hella, letting his hands meander down Marco’s bare back and adjusting his stance so his thigh slotted between Marco’s legs.  
“Jean?” Marco said, breaking the kiss.  
“Uh huh?”  
“You always whine, tonight’s gonna be a breeze for someone of my experience.” Marco said with a crinkled smile before he ruined Jean’s hair beyond redemption by pushing an orange sweatband over his brow. 

Jean flicked his nose, turning to the mirror to tweak the wretched luminous thing into something that resembled style. He didn’t have the heart to remove it though- if Marco wanted him to wear it he was powerless to do any different. It was unfair really, a little pouting and he was in the palm of his hand. Jean felt bubbles of happiness stir in his gut regardlessly, he finally had Marco.

If he wanted he could pull him into bed this instant and make out with him, or tomorrow he could call him up and take him out on a date some place nice. All Jean could see were beautiful possibilities. At seven they went to Annie’s, crowding into the front room and vacating as soon as Connie reared his stupid bald head. 

They all bustled into the truck’s wagon, Jean wrapping his arm around Marco instinctively.  
“So, how are the loooooovers?” Connie asked, waggling his eyebrows around like a douche.  
“My boyfriend and I are fine thank you.” Jean replied curtly, grinning a little at the rush he got from using that word in regard to Marco. “How are you and your crippling loneliness?”

Connie flipped him off, “fine actually, great. So Marco tell me, who’s the girlfriend?”  
Marco just blushed intensely and it was Jean’s turn to flip him off.  
“Shut it Connie! Just because you never get any-”  
“And you are getting some?” Sasha interjected, glancing at Connie with a shy smile on her face.

Jean had noticed she was being unusually quiet and not sitting as she usually did, astride Connie or the floor. Connie returned the smile with gusto, “yeah Bodt, you never did give me the green light on the frickle-frackle conundrum”

Marco went even more red in Jean’s arms. “Frickle-frackle? What the fuck Springer?” Jean retorted, laughing a little despite his chagrin.  
“Hey don’t look at me! Your boyfriend coined that phrase whilst very drunk when you two were doing your ‘no-homo-but-I’m-pining-for-you’ thing!”  
Jean stared at Marco with a look of incredulity in his eyes. Marco just hid his face in Jean’s shoulder, giggling a little. “I was faded as fuck! And Connie was pining too!”

Connie shot him a glare. “Whatever Marco-Sparko. Cute headband, by the way Jean.”  
Even Armin snorted a little at that, clearly keeping one ear on their conversation as he chatted with Christa.  
“Marco agreed with you on that one” Jean teased, giving Marco a lewd little wink. He blushed more than Jean had thought humanly possible, and slapped his side. “But I’m curious now, why was Connie putting on a mopey face?”

Marco shook his head. “Sorry Jean, I am a trustworthy individual.”  
Bertolt parked a little way away from the bar, cutting the engine a ten-minute walk away.  
The gang all clambered out, and began weaving their way down the streets towards the bar, Jean not removing his arm from Marco’s waist as they walked through the dusky streets, slowly igniting street-lamps casting amber spotlights over the inky asphalt.

They were just passing a shitty little dive when Jean heard a shout. “Hey look, it’s the poof-posse!”  
Shit. Reiner groaned audibly as Hannes and his moronic baseball team rounded the corner in front of them. It looked like the douche-patrol was out in full force tonight, about ten or eleven meatheads followed Hannes, chortling at his joke like a bunch of fucking idiots.

“Aw, just fuck off would you?” Jean called out, “I have better things to do tonight than stand here talking to you spastics.”  
“Better things to do, like your boyfriend the-” a dark haired boy with the wit of a doorknob began to call out, before he realised that Jean had his hand firmly on Marco’s hip. “Wait shit, you’re actually a faggot aren’t you?” He gasped. 

Jean realised that outing himself and Marco at this point in high school might not have been the best move, but he was going to stick to his guns now, even if it earned him a slap upside the head. He cocked his hip and fucking ran with that shit.

“Yeah, brainiac, what gave it away? Was it the eyeliner or leather pants? Both? This is a waste of our time, c’mon guys.”  
Armin guffawed quietly, and Reiner nodded. “Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here.”  
He made it about four paces down the street before Hannes squared up to him.

“You could be a cool guy Reiner, like really cool. Instead you hang out with Queer-olt, the faggot duo, chubby’n’baldy, the little blonde pussy and a pair of dykes. Seriously, what gives?”  
“Well gee Hannes I don’t know,” Reiner replied through gritted teeth, “ maybe because the alternative is hanging out with fucking assholes like you?”

There was a beat of silence before Connie pushed through the throng of people to cut in front of Reiner. He could barely look Hannes in the eye with his stature but the ice in his voice made Jean feel about two inches tall, and it wasn’t even directed at him.

“The fuck did you call her?”  
“What, the dykes?” Hannes chuckled, eying up Annie and Christa.  
“Nah dude, backtrack a little.”  
Connie sounded cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.  
“Oh you mean the fat chick?”  
The shorter man nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I needed.”

Another beat of silence occurred before, to Jean’s delight and horror Connie slammed his fist between Hannes’ eyes and kicked him hard in the knee, taking him off balance. Jean’s heart lurched for an instant, and then it all went to shit. 

A guy who Jean thought was called Hugo lunged for Connie, but was cut abruptly short when Reiner tackled him, rolling on the floor trying to pin him. Another one took this as an excuse to fight and immediately swung at Bertolt, who was too busy sweating and jittering to block the impending fist. 

The harsh blow to the temple left him reeling, and that’s when Jean decided it was his turn to fuck shit up. He leapt at the guy who had punched Bertl and dropkicked him as hard as he could in the chest. The guy was pretty beefy and although he fell down, looked a lot like he might get up soon. Jean didn’t have much time to consider future tactics as someone grabbed him from behind and threw him onto the kerb. 

He hit his head so hard he genuinely saw stars dance in his vision, and tasted blood in his mouth. He looked up and around. So far, he and his friends weren’t exactly winning this fight.  
Hannes had got the upper hand on Connie and was currently punching him in the gut, although his nose was spurting a pretty hefty amount of blood. Bertolt was still looking stricken and Marco was whaling on the guy who Jean figured had thrown him. 

Two other guys were engaged with Sasha and Armin, Sasha was fending pretty well- getting in some pretty heavy kicks and slapping the guy in the side of the head with her bag. Armin was getting pummeled. Mikasa then stepped in, taking the guy clean off his feet with an elegant swipe of her leg and not-so-elegantly stomping on his groin.

Annie was fucking slaying however, defending Christa with a weird stance and delivering lightning-fast punches to temples and solar plexi. She smacked the guy who had punched Bertolt hard enough that he stumbled and fled, and bopped his friend’s head against her knee knocking him unconscious instantly. 

Reiner put the guy he had been wrestling with out for the count, and ran over to help Jean up. His face looked pretty messed up, a cut spread across his cheek and a nasty-looking bruise blooming around his split lip. Jean accepted the help gratefully, and scanned the scene of chaos for Marco. 

The tides had turned somewhat since he had last seen him, he had gone from whaling to being the whale-ee, the brutish looking guy raining kicks over his abdomen as he curled up on the floor, trying to protect himself a little. Jean got why Connie had punched Hannes now. 

He yelled a battle-cry and smashed his elbow against the lugs head, knocking him over into an ungainly sprawl across Marco who scurried away, letting Jean pull him up. The fight was dispersing now, the guys Mikasa and Annie had dispatched slinking away along with the dick who had punched Bertolt. Hannes and Connie were still trading punches and Sasha’s opponent finally giving up after a well placed thumb to the eye socket.

Hannes sucker punched Connie something nasty, but the little guy was too pissed off and had too much adrenaline pumping around his veins to give a shit. He kneed Hannes in the crotch and brought his elbow down on his head viciously when he doubled over in pain, knocking him spark out.

Connie turned around to look at his friends, breathing hard. His face was pretty fucked up, a black eye already darkening around the socket and blood oozing out of his nose.  
“So, drinks anyone?” he quipped, before stepping over Hannes’ stirring body and heading towards The Pirripin.


	16. Bust A Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little update c: hope you like it, because it almost definitely likes you.  
> Enjoy!

EREN’S POV

Eren had spent his day in a state of constant confusion. Firstly Levi had pushed him on his ass in the middle of a parking lot, then a man with a bad haircut had turned up and Levi had vanished. Then his best friends had arrived at his work covered in cuts, bruises and extravagant bloodstains. 

He really didn’t know what to make of that. His head was an absolute mess; the strange man had bolted after the sound of Levi’s revving engine had flooded in from the parking lot, and Eren felt that like a slap to the face. No explanation, just cowardice- Eren had never taken Levi to be a man who was afraid of anything, but he had paled to a translucent sheen when the bizarre man had accosted him and vanished without a word to Eren.

Not only was it bad relationship-communication, but also meant he had to deal with double the amount of customers. When the sheer number of bar goers had finished overwhelming him, Eren had a chance to accost Mikasa about why Reiner had blood seeping out of his face and why Connie had looked like he had gone ten rounds with a wily anvil.

“The baseball team showed up.” She explained simply. “Connie went ballistic and slugged Hannes and it all turned to shit from there.”  
Eren believed her wholeheartedly. He could see Connie from where he stood pouring Mikasa a liberal gin and lemonade, Sasha gently using a napkin to soak up the stream of blood oozing from a cut on his cheek. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he replied, handing Mikasa her drink. “Is everyone okay?”  
She took a moment to sip on the beverage before replying.  
“Yeah, Jean has a pretty gross-looking bruise on his temple, Reiner got away with a nasty split lip, and you’ve seen the state of Connie I figure. Armin’s got a black eye and a cut on his face but besides that I figure we’re all in a decent state to drink the pain away.”

Eren nodded, flooded with anxiety for his friends well-being. He would make the baseball pay for this, he fucking swore it. Especially when he saw Marco limping his way towards the bar and Bertolt swoon in concussion for the second time in the evening.

“Hey Eren.” Marco sat at the bar, wincing a little as he eased himself onto a stool. “A tia maria and Jack Daniels and coke please.”  
“Coming right up.” Eren replied professionally, mixing the drinks and watching enviously as Jean strode over to support Marco and croon over his injuries.  
“There you go,” Eren said as he slid the pair of drinks over the counter-top, which was not nearly as clean as it would be if Levi was here. 

“Thanks Jaeger.” Jean replied, necking half his drink as he wound an arm around Marco.  
“Yeah, cheers Eren” Marco parroted, sipping more conservatively at his own beverage.  
“So, how are things with you?” He asked pleasantly  
Eren just shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Shit’s got weird with Levi though, some guy turned up earlier and he just bolted with zero explanation.”  
A thoughtful look crossed Jean’s horsey face. “Yeah? Did you get his name?”  
He cast his mind back to the awkward encounter. “Um, like Ollie or Olav or something? I don’t know, it could be an ex-boyfriend or something, but he called him ‘boss’ which struck me as really fucking weird.”

Marco cocked his head pensively. “That is really fucking weird. You should talk to him about it ‘Ren. Communication is key y’know.”  
Conversation ceased there as Jean took the opportunity to extensively make out with Marco. Eren felt mostly grossed out and a little jealous as they shamelessly sucked face, clearing revelling in each other’s touch and company. 

He moved on to serve Sasha, who looked antsy and kept throwing glances over to where Reiner, Annie and Connie stood together, knocking back their drinking and swaying along to the cheesy music.  
“Yo Jaeger, una tequila por favor.”  
Eren sighed “Damn I wish it wasn’t a reflex for you and Connie to start spouting shit in Spanish the second you get a few drinks down you.”  
“Who says there’s a me and Connie?” She replied, a little on the hysterical side. “I speak Spanish when I want to speaking fucking Spanish, barwench.” 

She had a little dirt smeared on her brow but besides that she seemed mostly unscathed from the debacle earlier.  
“Whoa chill out there Potato-Girl,” Eren grunted in response, chucking a tequila shot down his throat before serving hers.  
“Chill out yourself,” she retorted, “should you really be drinking whilst on shift?”

Eren shrugged and necked another, letting the sedative sizzle through his veins and take his mind off Levi being a stupid little shit and his friends getting in a bust-up without him. If he were there, he could have prevented Marco clutching his ribs like they were about to topple through his chest or Armin stemming the flow of blood from his nose. 

“Whatever Blaus, so what’s up with you? Usually you’re happy-go-lucky as a fairy with diarrhea by this point in a night, who shoved a rod up your ass?”  
Sasha just glared at him before taking her shot in a single gulp and slamming it on the bar.  
“I think I fucked up real bad, Eren.” She said solemnly. “And I don’t really know what to do about it.”

With that she wandered off to dance like a prick with Christa and Ymir along to a Johnny Cash song, leaving Eren alone with his thoughts once more. Not for the first time, Eren wished he could be the other side of the bar, drowning his worries out with alcohol instead of letting them plague his mind like a parasite, worming it’s way throughout his every thought and breath.  
Where was Levi now? Was he alright? Eren resolved to go to his apartment first thing tomorrow and demand an explanation. He was distracted from his inner-epiphany by Reiner swaggering up to the bar and asking for two vodka and coke mixes.

Eren complied, as was his job description, but not without a little prying first.  
“So what’s crawled up Sasha’s ass huh? She was acting fucking weirder than usual when she was ordering.”  
Reiner just shook his head enigmatically. “All shall be revealed in time Jaeger. Believe me, it’s best this stays under wraps for now.”  
“Jesus fucking Christ Reiner,” Eren said, shaking his head disbelievingly, “you really are a dastardly son-of-a-bitch, you know that?”  
Reiner just winked at him before grabbing the drinks and returning to hand one to Bertolt. 

Eren noticed his friends were gradually shaking off their introverted states and broaching the dancefloor, Ymir, Christa and Sasha already out there and Armin along with a concerned Erwin joining them as the tones of ‘Twist and Shout’ began to filter throughout the room.

Jean pulled Marco along with him into the throng of bodies and they began to dance exuberantly, eventually being joined by Reiner and Bertolt and their typical dad-dancing escapades.  
Even Mikasa was dragged out by a somewhat drunk Annie to shuffle along to the beat. Eren had never felt more isolated in a room full of his friends. Without thinking, he tossed back another shot of the vodka he had just served Reiner before moving on to deal with the other customers, thoughts of Levi still weighing like a boulder on his shoulders.

CONNIE’S POV

Connie felt like a right fucking dickhead. It was all his fault that fight had erupted earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Hannes had upped the ante too far by calling Sasha fat, he really had. 

Connie knew everything about Sasha, he was fairly sure he could pick out her little toe in a line up of similar little toes, and he knew she didn’t like to be teased about her extensive appetite. She made out like she didn’t really give a shit and Connie respected that, but in the deepest and darkest trips they had spent in his darkened living room whilst his brother was in Trost, they had shown each other every square inch of their souls. 

Even after the speed had worn off and the bottles of codeine were long out of their system, Connie still treasured that night, wishing he had seen the relevance of it at the time and just told Sasha how he felt there and then.

Now, sipping a double whisky and his face vibrating in pain it was all agonizingly clear to him. He wasn’t just lonely and bored, he loved Sasha, and that love ran deeper than their outrageous friendship and banterous behaviour. He loved her for her quirks and flaws and the way she hiccuped a little when she laughed. 

Connie loved her like he was being scalded from the inside out, and he had no idea what to do about that. So he watched her dance with her friends, unaware of his gaze honing on her. It was confusing and scary, being in love Connie decided. It wasn’t the whirlwind adventure he had always thought his first true feelings would be, but it was damn close. 

He knocked back the remainder of his drink before catching Reiner’s eye, who beckoned him over. He sauntered onto the dance floor, because if Connie was good at one thing, it was compartmentalizing. Tomorrow, he would figure out the mess his heart and Sasha’s infectious smiles had got him into, but tonight he was going to get drunk and cast it all from his mind. 

At this precise moment, he was going to dance like an ass with his two tallest friends and shuck all the pain and anxiety of his back, leaving him with new skin if only for the night. He threw himself into a rendition of ‘Twist and shout’, typically hamming it up and grinding on Bertolt. 

He backed off after he was fairly sure he might drown in the poor guy’s sweat, finding himself face to face with Sasha. They both froze for a moment, doubt flashing in their eyes. Connie was determined that even if he couldn’t earn Sasha’s undying affection he could make do with their friendship, and accordingly seized her hand and pulled her into a embarrassingly inaccurate twist. 

Connie had no fucking idea how to do the twist, but he just of kind of let himself flow with the quirky rhythm, sure the combination of blood loss and alcohol would supplement his total lack of skill. Luckily Sasha picked up on it pretty quickly and joined in with his dilapidated spasms. 

He couldn’t quite quell the rush he got from that. Sasha was always beautiful in his eyes, but tonight she looked especially gorgeous, her hair loose around her shoulders and a red lolita-style dress adorning her body, hugging to every curve of her hips. Connie wasn’t a stupid guy, he knew that a girl could go from a two to a ten with a little make-up and the right clothes, but he had seen Sasha in the bleakest of hangovers and most disgusting of comedowns, and to him she had always looked enchanting. 

The beat thumping from the speakers stalled and switched to something more modern. And Connie couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Motherfucking Young MC, fuck yes, this was his _jam_.  
He let his hips swing into time with the gyrating guitar riff as the floor cleared a little and he darted over to Jean. He knew Jean loved this song too, so there were no fucking excuses for him not ditching his boyfriend for ten seconds to jam with him.

“ _This here's a jam for all the fellas, tryin' to do what those ladies tell us, get shot down 'cause ya overzealous, play hard to get females get jealous_ ”  
Connie rapped along to the beat, revelling when Jean unashamedly joined in like the lame little white boy he was. 

When the chorus kicks in with the girl’s vocals Connie doesn’t even think before grabbing Sasha, clapping hands on her hips and dancing with her. Their eyes meet and she looks a little stunned, until Connie broke away to spit the next few bars with Jean. 

“ _She's dressed in yellow, she says hello, come sit next to me you fine fellow. You run over there without a second to lose, and what comes next? Hey bust a move_!”

Connie was into this song like no other, and earning a decent amount of cheering for his stirring hips and flawless lyric deliverance. As the breakdown cut in, Jean retreated to dance with Marco. They both looked pretty into it, grinding on each other in the shadows of the room and Connie decided to bop his way over to Sasha.

Connie liked the assertive feeling he got from putting his arms around Sasha’s waist the first time so he does it again, enjoying how her hips roll in time to the beat. She rests her arms around his collar and indulges him in the same starstruck look she did before, and Connie realised with a lurch in his gut that was how she was looking at Erwin the time he rudely tore her away from him to dance. 

Just as he’s really hitting his groove and his mind is bending to light-speed, the song ends. But he and Sasha remain wound in each other’s grasps. They stayed there, staring into each other's eyes like lost puppies until Armin wandered over, demanding that since Connie got him a set of cracked ribs, he’s doing tequila shots with him. 

Connie obliged, but his gut remained in the same twisted-up position it had been in since Sasha had looked at him with the same unadulterated wonder she did when he came up with the idea of packing Pop-tarts with weed before toasting them, but this time there was no pot or delicious food, just him.


	17. Don't Stop Believing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fiahglkdhfkaldjfhla sorry it's so late, I've been crazy-busy all weekend and will be until Thursday :( it's a pretty short chapter so a thousand apologies, hopefully I'll be able to churn out a proper length few asap c: as always, hope you enjoy!

REINER’S POV

Before his eyelids could flutter open, Reiner knew he was in pain. Aching sensations looped around his chest like a hedgehog had been stuffed in his ribcage and his face throbbed around his lip. He could already feel a scab forming where that meat-headed motherfucker had smacked him against the sidewalk. 

He grunted a little and shifted his body as gently as he could, not ready to open his eyes just yet. As he moved he felt skin brush his own, softly against his stomach. What the fuck?  
Reiner could tell by the smell of the room that they had crashed at Bertolt’s, and then it all clicked. They had slept in the same bed again, cool, whatever, it’s all just a bro thing. 

Reiner settled himself down again, still caught up in his own personal agony and trying to remember why the fuck he had let Armin convince him into doing tequila shots with himself and Connie. He could already feel the pinching sensation around his temples which alerted him to an impending headache. 

Thinking of Connie, Reiner had seen him and Sasha dancing and instantly knew he’d done the right thing by talking to her in Annie’s sitting room. Their conversation had been brief, but he had wheedled it out of Sasha that maybe she could have some feelings for Connie that weren’t totally friendship-orientated. He hadn’t needed to pry much after that, Reiner was a problem-solver and he could tell when he’d done his part.

He winced some more and turned over to find a more comfortable position. That is until he realized the sheets he was navigating were brushing against his bare ass. What the fuck?!  
Then Reiner decided he had to open his eyes now, squinting against the sunlight to survey his surroundings.

He was fourth-base naked, in Bertolt’s bed. To add insult to injury, Bertolt was in it too. He was lying face down, the covers only cocooning his lower half- sunlight and shadows mingling over the ridges of his spine. Reiner was internally panicking at full-throttle by this point, from this perspective he didn’t know for sure that Bertolt was naked, but it would be pretty unlikely if he wasn’t.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Reiner evaluated everything; so he had got in a fight, got drunk, and woke up naked in bed with his best friend, who was a confirmed homosexual. Great.  
Reiner knew there was no guarantee that anything had.. Happened, but at this point it kind of seemed redundant anyway. 

He had literally no idea what to do. He had always thought Bertolt was sweet and funny, and yes pretty cute, but the line in the sand had been drawn that they were best friends for some time now and Reiner had never intended to cross that line, much less smear it out with his dick. 

His mind hopped into overdrive. What had they done together? Had he liked it? Were they going to do it again? Okay no, Reiner hadn’t deliberately considered the last one but he couldn’t stop it flitting across his mind now. He loved Bertolt, he was his best friend for fuck’s sake, but if Bert was going to be screwing anyone, wouldn't Reiner prefer it to be him?

They were a totally co-dependant duo, if something messed up one the other felt it. How would this bizarre situation affect their symbiotic relationship? When Bertolt had be upset and arguing with his dad about his sexuality, Reiner had felt off-kilter and sad. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, floating miles above the mental chaos that he was experiencing, because he felt.. Okay with it. 

It had been a shock, but in hindsight there were much worse things to happen than sleep with your best friend. Wasn’t that how loads of relationships began? Good friends becoming lovers? Reiner had seen it in shit-tonnes of films at least.

And really, what would change between them? They might kiss, and cuddle and have sex (which Reiner was trying to figure out the mechanic of), but they would still go the arcade and record shops together, they’d still duet on guitar and bass (badly) and they would still mooch around Reiner’s reading comics for hours on end. 

He took comfort in knowing that this didn’t have to be the be-all end-all of their friendship, at least not if he had anything to do with it. Reiner debated whether to was Bertolt up or not, but opted to just lay near to him, brain processing how their entire relationship had simultaneously changed completely, and not changed at all. 

He had almost drifted back to sleep before Bertolt woke up, stretching and limbering up his muscles with a cacophanus yawn. He flopped onto his side and rubbed his eyes until they focused. Then he caught a glance of Reiner practically nose-to-nose with him on the pillow and yelped. 

“Shit! Morning Rei- ohhhhhh my god.”  
He twigged on much quicker than Reiner had that he was in fact totally fucking naked.  
“Um, Reiner?”  
“Yup?” He replied, popping the ‘p’ in an act of being totally casual.  
“Um, are you also uhh..” Bertolt meandered awkwardly  
“Without clothes?”  
“Yes, yes that’s the thing, er, word I was looking for there,”  
“Also yep.”

Bertolt blushed totally scarlet. “Oh god, we didn’t..?”  
“Don’t know, but I would uh, assume so.” Reiner deadpanned, he had just got to grips with the idea that him and Bertolt could work as a couple, but now it was occurring to him that maybe Bertolt didn’t feel the same way. Would he just brush it off as an uncomfortable drunken mistake?

“Oh, I, er, um, oh.” Bertolt mumbled, sweating in earnest.  
“It’s.. Okay Bert.” His head snapped up disbelievingly.  
Reiner decided that he would have to take the lead here, salvage their friendship and maybe even coerce Bertolt into something more? Although they were indulgent daydreams, he had grown fond of the idea of dating Bert. 

“Shit happens y’know? I’m okay with this. Are you?”  
Bertolt squeaked a little. “Reiner.. This is really not how I wanted it to happen, but I am okay with this. Like, really okay with this.” His voice broke a little then, and Reiner got it.

Without a thought, he pulled Bertolt into an embrace. It was a little awkward at first and Bertolt was tense in his arms, but he gradually relaxed into his touch. It was just their torsos touching because Reiner was very aware that they were still both in their respective birthday suits. 

Reiner gently carded his hand through the hair on the nape of Bertolt’s neck, trying to be comforting without making things uncomfortable. Bertolt huffed a breath into the crook of his neck and started talking. “Reiner, this might not end well, but I guess it’s happened now. I like you, as in like-like you. I have for a really long time, but I just always assumed you were totally straight and if I acted on it I would mess up our friendship. When you say you’re ‘okay’ with this, do you mean..?”

“That I like you too?” Reiner cut across. “Yeah Bert. I hadn’t given it much thought until now, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with, like ever. And you know how badly Hitch fucked me up towards the end.”

Bertolt nodded, his hair tickled Reiner’s nose. “Yeah, yeah I do. So, are we basically getting at the point that we want to be… Boyfriends?”  
Reiner squirmed a little. “I guess so.. Like I want to treat you like one, but I’m still very sketchy on the details of um, doing the do with a guy. Not to mention being an out couple at school is going to be fucking horrible. After that sham last night? Senior year is going to suck dick.”

Bertolt shook his head, ever the optimist. “It won’t. Well maybe a little, but we’re gonna have the whole gang there with our backs. And, yeah it’s okay if you want to keep.. This, between us for now.” Reiner smiled and drew his head back a little in order to press a kiss against Bertolt’s slightly parted lips. 

It was sweet and chaste and made Reiner’s head spin a little, mostly because it felt so undeniably natural. He would have thought his first thoughts kissing a boy would be something the lines of ‘Oh god!!!!’, but really it was more of an off-handed ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’

He opened his mouth a little to properly kiss him, revelling in the broken sigh that it elicited from Bertolt. Reiner knew that rationally, lots of couples broke up and if he lost Bertolt, it would be losing half of his limbs. But in that moment, the gentle press of slightly chapped lips against his was enough to whisk his mind to a more optimistic world, empty of anyone but himself and the lanky young man in his arms.


	18. Missing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK GUYS! New update ahoy, and I'll be adding another chapter soon c:

EREN’S POV

After the eleventh time Eren had snatched the phone from it’s cradle with the intention of calling Levi and demanding a goddamn explanation, he decided it was time to bite the bullet and just drive to his place. It had been two days since the incident with absolutely no contact from Levi and his initial feelings of worry and compassion had quickly worn off into Eren just feeling pissed off and a little betrayed. He was Levi’s fucking boyfriend after all, he should be getting an explanation for his shitty vanishing act.

Not to mention he had a crap night of dealing with double the customers and then having to ring up a mechanic to come and repair his car at ten past midnight. The Starlet was mostly fixed now, and only stalled now and then on the route home. 

Eren pulled on Mikasa’s bomber jacket which he had now claimed as his own and lit a cigarette to calm himself down a little before he drove to Levi’s flat and just demand to know what had incited him to flee like such a fucking coward.

He soaked up the dwindling afternoon sunshine as he sucked on his cigarette and allowed the toxins and cloying scent to mellow out his nerves. Eren was still hopelessly confused about the situation, which didn’t mix well with being angry and concerned. His head filled with theories and contingencies and his revved the engine and set off down town.

Switching on the radio usually pacified him a little, even when he was in the worst of moods, usually after an argument with Mikasa or another bout of fighting with Jean, tuning into his favourite station and bathing himself in the flow of the music made every situation lighten up. 

All he heard was static for a few moments until John Waite’s voice began floating out of the tinny speakers.  
‘ _Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath. I'm still standing here and you're miles away, and I'm wondering why you left_ ’

Eren considered snarling and switching the damn thing off, the last thing he needed now was a melodramatic mental break, but instead he allowed himself to wallow a little, indulging his mind in the possibilities he hadn’t wanted to face. 

That Levi had disappeared from the state and he would never see him again, that this would be a wedge between him and they would go back to being snarky workmates (but more likely Eren would just quit and find a new job, seeing Levi every other day and knowing what could have been sounded a lot like torture.)

He parked outside the complex and trekked up to Levi’s apartment, doubt and dread stirring in his stomach, but Eren Jaeger was a lot of things and a yellow-bellied pussy wasn’t one of them. He was determined to tackle this now and fast, before it became something tragic.

He took a few composing breaths, before rapping on Levi’s front door twice. After a few gut-wrenching seconds, he heard movement from indoors. Then the door opened a crack, held mostly to the frame by the chain-bolt.

Levi’s slate obsidian eyes peered out with him, more pronounced by the great troughs of grey which had appeared beneath his eyes- starkly contrasting with his pale complexion.  
“Eren.” His tone was relieved, but also vaguely manic. “Hi.”

“Hey, Levi.” Eren tried to keep his tone conversational, not sure what to make of the scene before him. “Yep, me. Eren. The boyfriend you ditched at work on Friday? With no explanation?”  
Alright, so that wasn’t very conversational. Levi sighed and slid the bolt open, opening the door and gesturing for him to enter.

“Any reason this place turned into Fort Knox since the last time I was here?” Eren sarked as he walked in. The place was spotless as ever, but he saw the empty bottles of wine on the counter, and no amount of cheap air freshener could mask the strong stench of cigarette smoke. 

“Eren.. Listen this is hard to explain..”  
Levi sounded deeply uncomfortable, as he fiddled with the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Eren’s pyjama bottoms actually, he hadn’t realised Levi had kept them and couldn’t deny the warm feeling that flared at the pit of his stomach at the sight of him wearing them. 

“Well, you should probably get explaining then.”  
The warm feeling wasn’t enough to stop the flames licking at his temper however, and he plonked his ass down on Levi’s sofa and raised his eyebrows at him.

“Alright brat-”  
“Shut the fuck up! If I’m such a brat why wasn’t I the one fucking booking it the second some guy wanders in to work asking for me? Why wasn’t I the one giving no explanation for this to his boyfriend who was worried fucking sick about him? Huh?” 

Eren hadn’t meant for his temper to boil over, but now it was like magma spilling from a crater lip. It wasn’t an exaggeration, he had been a flummoxed wreck since Friday and he was desperate to know where he stood. 

“Eren, please.” Levi words were quiet and sounded utterly defeated. Eren immediately felt like a piece of shit. “There’s some stuff I haven’t exactly told you.. About my past. Ideally I wouldn’t tell you at all, because it is the past and I hate dredging shit like this up but, well under this circumstance I don’t have any other viable options.”

He sat next to Eren, keeping a few inches between them. Eren held his tongue and nodded for his to continue talking. Levi sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you this, because I was worried you wouldn’t see me the same afterwards but.. You mean a lot to me, Eren. And I suppose you deserve to know the whole story. Up until two years ago, I lived in Shiganshina. You’ve probably heard of it, it’s way over the other side of Trost and it’s shitty as hell. Stohess is shitty too I know, but Shiganshina is fucking chock-full of crime and gangs and folk who would rough you up as soon as look at you.”

He paused to light a cigarette, hands shaking just a little. 

“I grew up there, and after I graduated high school I didn’t have the cash to go to college, so I joined a gang. I was already a drinker, but I got onto harder shit pretty fast after then. I started at the bottom but I rose fast, I was fucking good at what I did. I did awful things, Eren. I beat and stole and threatened and let even worse things happen right before my eyes without lifting a finger to stop it.

My gang were a rough crowd. The Legion we were called, but as it is with everything a rougher crowd showed up after we started churning some serious profits. The Titans, they called themselves. They carved a fucking hole in our ranks, we were dropping like flies. I was too fucking high to care half the time, but then they came for me.”

Levi looked Eren dead in the eyes as he spoke now. “They kicked the everliving shit out of me, cut me up pretty nasty too. I fought back though. When push came to shove I killed two of the goons they sent after me, and that night I shipped out to settle somewhere new. I was in way too deep and The Legion wasn’t a ship I wanted to sink with. None of that ‘Band of Brothers’ shit, it was a job to me and that was all.”

Eren’s mouth had dried up completely and he choked a little trying to spit words out. “So, that Oluo guys was..?”  
“My second-in-command, by the time I left I was their ‘heichou’- the captain. He wanted me to come back and help haul them all out of the shitter. That gang did nothing fucking good for me Eren. They turned me into a thug, and con artist and a junkie, I don’t owe them shit, my less my life.”

Eren’s mind reeled. So his boyfriend was a murderer, great. To be fair he had killed in self-defense but regardlessly this influx of information made him feel nauseous. Levi just kept talking. “I panicked when Oluo showed up, mostly because I realised that if my own men could find me, it meant The Titans could too. I don’t want to fucking think about the revenge they would wreak on me. They would tear you apart just to break my focus on the war, Eren. They are fucking merciless and I feel sick at the thought of those inhuman fucks coming anywhere near you.”

Levi ducked his head and simply said. “I understand if you want to leave.”  
A part of Eren did kind of want to bolt outside so he could collect and make sense of all this, but the majority of him could see all this in context with the Levi he knew now, and it did nothing to alter how much he had come to care about the short, maltempered young man.

He tentatively reached his hand out to clasp it around Levi’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Like you said, it’s all the past now and what I give a shit about is our future. Together. I really really fucking like you, and all the things you’ve told me scare the shit out of me, but mostly because of how little it changes how I feel.”

Levi twisted his head to appraise Eren’s earnest look. “Really?”  
“Really. We can deal with this shit if it happens, but at the moment it’s all hypothetical right? Chances are the Titans aren’t going to find you.”

Levi made a noise like he was choking back something like a sob and pulled Eren to him, kissing him fiercely. “Thank Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered as they broke apart, “I was shitting myself that this would be the end for us, I really don’t want that.”

Eren kissed him this time, sucking lightly on his lower lip until Levi opened his mouth, swiping his tongue against Eren’s and tracing an ostentatious pattern around his hipbone with the pad of his thumb. Eren accordingly pushed his palms from Levi’s shoulders to the small of his back, pushing himself more and more into the kiss.

Then he slipped a little and bit down hard on Levi’s tongue. Not giving him a chance to apologise for his blunder, Levi hitched him up and pushed him down, so his back was against the sofa and Levi on top. He gave Levi a wolfish grin, which only incited him to growl and pull Eren into another aggressive kiss, slotting his thigh between Eren’s and shifting it tortuously so it caused a minute amount of friction around his crotch. 

Eren let out a slight whine as the sparks which crackled up his spine from this, losing himself in their kisses as the weight he hadn’t even realised was resting on his shoulders for the last few days vapourised. He pushed his hands up Levi’s shirts and trailed his fingers idly down his prominent abs, then moving them upwards. Levi gave a breathy moan when his thumb passed over his nipple, and Eren took that as an invitation. 

He deftly pushed Levi’s shirt up and over his head, experimentally leaning up to lap his tongue across the exposed nub of flesh. The reaction was instantaneous, and blood rushed to his groin as Levi writhed a little against his mouth and moaned wholeheartedly. 

Eren decided at that moment that his beating heart depended upon making Levi utter that noise again. It was unconsidered and wanton, filthy and shameless in a way that spurned Eren into doing it to the other nipple whilst scraping his hands through Levi’s hair from the back, letting his fingernails dig into his scalp. 

Levi gave another groan of approval, he was now straddling Eren like before, only now he was not the dominant one. Eren craved more of Levi like this, loud and uncensored and fucking perfect with his ass resting against Eren’s cock. He instinctively bucked his hips a little and let out a moan of his own, somewhere between a whine and a yelp. It sure wasn’t sexy like Levi’s but he still seemed to enjoy it, smirking down at Eren and twisting his hips so his ass grinded against Eren’s crotch. 

Eren felt his arousal like a steamroller then, his heart leaping and pumping to an inhuman rate as he watched and felt and tasted Levi astride him, feverishly drinking in every inch of Levi with every sense he could. Levi pushed his back against the arm of the sofa and began sucking at his neck, re-colouring the blooming bruises that had begun to fade only days ago. 

Eren made a guttural noise which stuck in his throat as Levi worked his hot mouth down his neck and into the dip of his collarbone, hand sliding down his abdomen to massage against his now bulging erection.  
“Levi, fuck, I-”  
“Is this okay?”  
“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”  
Eren couldn’t take much more of this and rocked his hips into Levi’s palm desperately searching for any kind of friction, biting down on his lip to muffle any further unattractive noises. 

Levi had the nerve to fucking chuckle darkly above him, and Eren felt a surge of adrenaline. He sat up suddenly, knocking Levi backwards off his lap and into a splayed position on the couch. Eren launched himself onto him, biting down on his neck and grinding their hips together almost savagely. Levi’s seductive moans because louder until he was practically shouting, moving his hands between them to pull Eren’s shirt over his head and force his jeans off. Eren got the idea and co-operated, also shedding his pants. They regarded each other for a moment. 

Eren’s eyes were wild and confrontational, pupils dilated so far Levi could scarcely see the turquoise irises. They were ferocious, his mouth was kissed red and puckered and his neck already showing the saturated tones of the lovebites he had left. He internally nicknamed this Eren’s ‘fuck me, you know you want to’ face. 

Levi obliged. Crashing their mouths together again for a few moments before he drew backwards he asked with a hint of teasing in his tone, “so, do you top or bottom Jaeger?”


	19. Whole Lotta Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck I have been so busy recently, sorry all :( last chapter will be concluded don't you worry, and as always I hope you enjoy this little update x

JEAN’S POV

In the past three days, Jean had realised little things about Marco. Things he had loved since he first met the freckled boy a year before but had never quite figured it out until now. The burnt umber shade of his eyes which flashed to an amber hue when they caught the light, his scratchy, abashed, infectious laugh which Jean revelled in, the small cluster of freckles just below his ribs on the left side. 

The tiny huffs of breath he released as he exhaled his sleep, his broad shoulders and square jaw. How fucking adorable Marco looked with bedhead, how he brought a book AND notebook with him everywhere he went. It was a lazy Summer evening, the late Monday light filtering in through the half-shuttered blinds. Mr and Mrs Kirstein had been and gone back to Trost central and weren’t due home until that Friday so the boys had the house all to themselves.

they sat together on Jean’s bed, a Led Zeppelin album playing quietly in the background. Marco sat up scribbling away in his notebook and Jean’s head in his lap, idly flicking through a comic Sasha had lent him last week. He quickly lost interest, Superman was always his least favourite hero anyway.

“Marc?”  
“Mhmm?”  
“What’cha writing?”  
Jean liked his little nickname for Marco, it was sweet and easy and although he did also like using the little pet names which Marco lavished upon him, he just thought it was cute. Like Marco was from this angle, from below his jaw looked even more angular and he could see the spat of freckles which adorned his chest. 

“Not writing. Drawing, babe”  
There it was, the pet name. Jean’s heart swelled a little. Since the night in the desert on Thursday they had been inseparable, and Marco’s presence had been enough to wean him off ambien for the most part. The drug had seemed redundant since he had been spending his nights curled up in Marco’s arms, trading gentle kisses and quiet words. 

“Show me?” Jean asked, hitching himself up on his elbows to have a look at the page. He had been incessantly curious as to what was actually in the notebook for weeks now and Marco had been nothing but enigmatic on the subject.

Even now he tried to snatch it away from Jean’s gaze, huffing a little about personal privacy.  
“Come ooooon Marco. Please let me see?”  
“Ugh, I, fine. Here. Take the piss and I’ll tickle the hell out of you, Kirstein.”

Jean almost sighed at the harmless threat, of course Marco was too sweet to cause him any physical harm than reducing him to a drooling wreck, which was he typically did by just removing his shirt anyway. Jean knew that taking the sexual part of their relationship one step at a time was important, but with Marco in his grasp it was difficult not to ache for his touch and to be able to touch him shamelessly in return.

He accepted the notebook, looking at the page. They were only sketches, but he could recognise himself in the abridged drawings nonetheless; this page was all pencil outlines of Jean’s face as he could see it in his lap. The likeness was extraordinary, Jean knew that Marco wanted to be an illustrator, but he had no idea he was this good. 

Without thinking he flicked backwards through the book, looking at the other doodles Marco had etched in his spare time. There were some elegant still-life sketches, and a few dramatic sunsets, but mostly it was Jean. Jean laughing, frowning, sitting in the desert sipping a beer. Hundreds of impeccable drawings of him littered the pages of the book. He admired a pastel sketch of desert, Jean was the focal point in the centre with others around him. 

“Uh, Jean, I can explain..” Marco began awkwardly, shifting with discomfort as he watched Jean skim through the book.  
“All I want a fucking explanation for,” Jean cut him off, “Is what these dumb mooks are doing in the background, you have some crazy talent Marco and I want to be what you draw now and forever, if eternity isn’t jumping the gun too much.” 

Marco grinned widely, allowing Jean to pulling him into a kiss. He knew it probably took a lot of guts to let someone see something as soul-baring as that notebook, and he was grateful that Marco had placed that trust in him. That was kind of the turning-point really, Marco trusted him totally and Jean decided that if not now, then when?

They were sitting on his bed in a kind of awkward position, so Jean remedied this by pulling Marco flush against him in a much more preferable reclining position. He pushed his hands down Marco’s back and grabbed a handful of his ass, deepening the kiss and nipping on his lower lip a little. Marco hesitated for a moment and Jean worried that he had pushed it too far, too quickly. Then Marco kissed him back hard, sucking on his tongue a little in a way that made Jean whimper and used his hands to clasp Jean’s ass in return, pushing their hips together in a way which made Jean’s head feel light.

He was hard as a rock by now, and according to his gut-reaction shifted his hips a little to see what friction could be sought after. His erection dragged alongside Marco’s, both stifling their respective moans at the slow slide of their cocks moving together. 

“Jean, I” Marco huffed  
Immediately Jean felt conflicted “Oh god, is this too much, I’m so sorry-” He tried to move off Marco, but he found strong hands holding him in place.  
“No, you moron” Marco growled in a way that shouldn’t have been seductive but was, “It’s not enough.”

He kissed him again, urgency fuelling their mouths now. Marco moved his hands around Jean’s thighs to his erection straining through his boxer shorts. He experimentally stroked a hand over the bulge and Jean practically keened at the sensation. Jean decided he wanted to be brave too and swept his hands down to Marco’s clothed cock. He slid off the layers of fabric as Marco stripped off his shirt. 

His mind just kind of, short-circuited then. Marco, lying a little bashfully underneath him completely naked. His hair was sticking up a little and a flush had worked its way over his cheeks, hard cock over his navel, weeping a little with precum at the tip. 

On impulse, Jean leant forwards and swiped the tip of his tongue across the moisture. Marco gasped like the room was a vacuum and bit back a moan. That was all the incentive Jean needed to do it again, gently working his mouth around Marco’s cock. 

It was a weird feeling but not bad by any means, Jean had zero experience but he made up for it with adventurousness, acutely aware of every one of the borderline pornographic gasps and moans that Marco let slip out. After a minute of getting used to Marco’s weight on his tongue, he decided fuck it and relaxed his throat before sliding his lips as close to the base of Marco’s length as he could.

He gagged a little but Marco’s reaction was instantaneous  
“Oh Jesus fuck, Jean. Jean.” He panted out, trying to quell his desire to thrust up against Jean’s mouth. Jean hummed a little around his length, sliding his mouth up and then back down to the base of his shaft. 

“CHRIST, Jean, I, I think I’m gonna..” Marco tugged on the back of his hair, and Jean slid his mouth off his dick with a dirty popping sound as his lips were removed.  
“Jean, I want..” Marco looked at him, face flushed and voice cracking with totally shameless need.  
“Anything, anything baby.” Jean replied, absently stroking himself as he drank in the image of Marco taken apart at the seams.  
“I want.. Could I.. Fuck you?”

Jean was taken aback by his directness but mostly just flattered. He wanted Marco, every last fucking inch of him.  
“Yes, god yes.”  
Marco nodded and kissed him again, replacing Jean’s hand with his own and stroking his length. Jean shivered and moaned a little at the contact. 

He hadn’t been sure who was going to be on top, but he longed for Marco in any way he could have him, and the thought of being beneath him, writhing and at the freckled boy’s mercy had kept him up many nights already.

Marco tugged and pushed him so his back was against the mattress.  
“I’ve uh, done some research so I do know what I’m doing here.”  
“Research?” Jean quipped.  
“Well, I think dirty magazines count as research” Marco shot back. “Do you have any kind of lubricant or-?”

Jean extended an arm and found the drawer in his bedside table. Pulling it open he procured a small bottle of lube which Eren had bought him forever ago for a joke.  
Who’s laughing now Jaeger? Jean thought as he tossed the tube to Marco. 

Jean properly removed his shorts with a little giggling assistance from Marco, and then his shirt. He thought he might just spontaneously come right there at the look of rapture on Marco’s face as he looked up and down his naked body. Marco kissed his collarbone gently, before blazing a trail of nips and kisses right down to his hipbone, sucking a hickey into the skin there.

Jean was practically wheezing at this alone, his heart rate hopped up another gear however when Marco nudged his legs apart and squeezed a liberal amount of the viscous liquid onto his index finger.

“Jean? Are you ready?” Marco’s voice snapped him out of his hazy stupor of being intensely turned on and he nodded, bracing himself for the worst. Marco pushed the finger inside of him and Jean tried to stay relaxed, getting accustomed to the feeling of having something go in where it usually goes out. 

After a minute, Marco added a second finger along with more lube. Jean hissed a little at the sudden burn which spread across his abdomen, but when Marco looked up in alarm Jean replied with a simple “Don’t you dare stop.”

Marco moved his fingers in and out of him and Jean found himself starting to enjoy the sensation, when Marco crooked his fingers just a little and fucking stars exploded across his vision. His dick lurched from slightly softening to being like a rock and he let out an unapologetic moan. “Jesus fucking Christ, Marco, what was that?”

“That’s called a prostate Jean.” He replied smugly, before hitting the same sweet spot which made Jean arch of the bed and whine his name. Marco scissored his fingers a little more and Jean rutted down onto them shamelessly, panting and gasping. 

“Are you.. Ready?” Marco asked, a little tentatively.  
“Fuck, yes, please Marco.” Jean managed to choke out. “Fuck me.”  
Marco practically did a double take and hurried to apply some more lube to Jean and then his own cock, which was weeping and stiffer than Mikasa was when it came to Eren’s safety.

He lined himself up to Jean’s entrance carefully, pulling Jean’s hips off the bed ever so slightly so he could get the angle right. Marco pushed himself in with one long thrust, moaning and throwing his head back as he did so. 

Jean grit his teeth and allowed the feeling of being cloven in half to wash over him.  
“Jean? Is it okay?”  
“Yeah, yeah.” He panted out. “Just give me a minute to.. Get used to it.”

Marco did, trailing his hands over Jean’s torso and murmuring to him comfortingly. After a few minutes Jean looked up at him and nodded.  
“Move, Marc.”

Marco gently canted his hips so his dick slid out and in of Jean again tortuously slow, but jerked his hips at the last second so he hit the sweet spot. He slid in and out again, harder this time and Jean moaned, wrapping his legs around his waist for more leverage. They rocked against each other

“Fuck, Marco, just, do me.” Jean managed to stutter as his vision danced and sparks raced up and down his spine. 

Marco didn’t have to be told twice. He began to properly thrust into Jean, moan warping into a shout.  
“God, Jean, so.. You’re so tight I-” he cut himself off with another shout, and Jean lost it at seeing him so liberated by the sensations he was giving him. Jean thrust against him with equal vigour, letting himself shout in pleasure in tandem with Marco,

Marco thrust into him harder and harder, hitting the mark more accurately as time went on. Jean was in a fucking frenzy by this point, moaning and cursing and chanting Marco’s name like it was the incantation for immortality. 

“Jean, I’m going to- Jean.” Jean felt as Marco came inside him, and let the coil building in his chest spill out at the same time, cum striping his chest as he moaned Marco’s name one last time.

They both shook with a combination of fatigue and intense pleasure and Marco gently pulled out of him before flopping beside him and pulling him into an embrace.  
“I love you Jean.” He mumbled, pushing a kiss against the shaved part of his hair.  
“I love you too,” Jean replied, not thinking twice about it before he drifted off to sleep still wrapped in Marco’s arms and semen sprayed across his chest. 

Yeah, in retrospect that was pretty gross.


	20. Love Removal Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead guys!! Just very busy :( here's the latest chapter though, on with the plot from here on out! Hope you enjoy it c:

CONNIE’S POV

When Jean didn’t pick up for the third time, Connie had to assume that he was busy doing the do with Marco. He was proud of his friend, but mostly envious; Jean was essentially a massive douchebag, why should he get the person of his dreams but not Connie? 

He pangs of longing in his gut for Sasha had stretched into long molasses of need, he physically craved her presence, but when she was there he felt bumbling and inadequate to the nth degree- how could he ever deserve her love and affection? 

She was perfect in his mind, beautiful and fearless and independent. Connie ached for her, the seriousness he had avoided artfully all his life crashing upon him. Yes, he was young and stupid and high half the time anyway, but he could never picture himself spending his life with anyone but Sasha.

He spent his morning half with his brother, watching shitty TV and eating toast, and half in his imagination, conjuring scenarios where he could seize Sasha by the hand and pull her to him, confessing his feeling and kissing her deeply. 

None of the awkward shit he had dealt with when he had been with Hannah, no ‘oooh should I do that?’ ‘oooh what if her insane ten-foot boyfriend finds out we screwed that one time’, it would be perfect. 

Connie would ensure that it was fucking perfect. After his calls to Jean trailed off into awkward answer-phone bullshit about ‘you have reached the Kirstein household etc etc’, rather than ‘Jean’s grand emporium of fucking ha-ha-ha you aren’t getting any, screw you Springer’. 

His head and chest still ached a little from his fight with Hannes, Connie sort of regretted jumping in with all that white-knight shit, but he knew first hand that Sasha loathed any kind of off-handed comments about her calorie intake, and therefore he loathed it too.

Sasha did enjoy her ‘don’t give a fuck’ demeanour, but Connie knew her well enough to see the cracks which fractured the immaculate wall she had built between herself and people who gave a damn how much food she loaded into her body. 

He sighed and punched in Bertolt’s number which also rang off into silence. Seriously, where were all of Connie’s fucking friends? He dialled Armin next, who actually picked up. Looks like third time's the charm after all huh?  
“Hello?”  
“Hey Legout, it’s-”  
“Hey Connie.”  
Connie chuckled, he did love his nicknames. They were funny, imaginative and insufferable, all of his favourite qualities rolled into one.  
“Yo to you too, what’s up?”  
“Uhh not much really, there’s a party going on at Annie’s tonight if you want to come to that?”  
“Sure, I’ve been bored shitless since Friday”  
“Don’t you mean ‘witless’?”  
“Nah, shitless.”  
Armin giggled a little at that.

“Well, feel free to come to that, although I don’t remember Friday being much fun at all, I still have kind of a black eye and Sasha’s makeup is too dark to make it look okay.”  
Connie squirmed a little internally.  
“You’ve seen Sasha?”  
He hadn’t seen her in almost four days now, which was possibly a record. He hadn’t even called her up at night to chat shit like he usually did every night they didn’t spend as a dynamic duo.  
“Yeah, we went to the mall together yesterday with Mikasa and Annie. Are you two in a fight or something? Because I did ask where you were and she just went red and changed the topic.”

The squirming became a plummeting sensation in Connie’s gut. So now Sasha was actively avoiding him? Fucking perfect. 

“Um, I don’t know right now.. Things are weird to say the least.”  
“Connie, do you like her? As in really like her?”

He couldn’t help but give a dry chuckle at that. Armin was a perceptive little shit after all, of course he would know that his feelings for Sasha extended beyond just ‘liking’.

“Yeah, I do Legout. I really do and I have no fucking clue what to do about it.”  
Armin hummed contemplatively before he spoke. “You just hang on in there buddy, see you tonight. Also, never call me ‘Legout’ again.”  
“I make no promises!” Connie yelled in response as Armin hung up.

The excessive noise succeeded in waking up his brother, who shouted a caring sibling remark of ‘pipe the fuck down’ from his room. Connie ignored him and decided to skip breakfast in favour of one of his brothers cigarettes he had left on the counter- healthy no, rock’n’roll yes. 

He settled himself on the couch to coast through the morning cartoons and daydream about Sasha.

EREN’S POV.

Eren woke up later than normal, stretching out in his bed and relishing the space that Levi usually took up with a bittersweet feeling. Work had been hectic as always last night, but he had secured that Levi would be coming to Annie’s party that night. 

His morning wood jolted uncomfortably against him as he rolled onto his stomach and Eren let his mind drift to the events of the previous Sunday.  
“So, do you top or bottom Jaeger?”

Levi had asked with an impressive smirk, and the tug in Eren’s gut had answered that enough. He wanted to bite those lips to a bloody mess, to possess and own Levi’s entire body and wrack it with pleasure. He pulled him into a demanding kiss and growled into Levi’s mouth, mind to stretched out to censor the words which tumbled out; “Top. I want to fuck you over this couch.”

Levi’s grin only widened at that. “Now that’s the spirit, brat. Hold on a moment.”  
He wriggled out from underneath Eren and sauntered to his bedroom, deliberately swinging his hips in a way that made Eren’s mouth dry and head spin. 

He returned only moments later, holding a tube of lubricant similar to the stuff that Eren had bought Jean for his birthday a while back as a joke. He tried not to think too much about Jean at this particular point in time, although he was pretty sure that even Horse-Face couldn’t kill his boner right now, not with Levi standing in front of him, stark naked. 

Eren let his eyes trail over Levi’s body, admiring his muscular abdomen and angular hips. “I could fucking eat you right now” he blurted out, brain still too fried to regulate what his mouth was saying.

“Easy there, Lecter.” Levi shot back, walking towards his splayed position on the couch and kneeling in front of him. “You’re welcome to taste every inch of me.”  
Eren’s mind fizzled into oblivion all over again, as Levi tipped his body backwards and began working lube onto his fingers before he started talking again. “You’re a total novice at this kind of thing, so don’t be offended but I’d rather prep myself.”

Eren couldn’t feel offended, or much of anything really as he watched Levi insert a finger inside himself and gently pump it up and down. All he could really feel was his cock twitching in time to Levi’s moans as he added more digits and stretched himself out.

Eren decided he couldn’t take it anymore, watching with rapt attention he began to stroke himself. “Don’t bother with that.” Levi panted out. “Just get over here. I think I’m going to die if you don’t get on with screwing me in the next ten seconds.” 

He made it over in three, pushing Levi’s back onto the arm of the sofa so his hips and entrance were aligned with Eren’s cock. He looked at Levi for a long moment, silently communicating his questions. Are you ready? Are you sure? Levi just nodded and Eren pushed into him, tight heat wrapping itself around his length.

Eren let out a long groan at the otherworldly sensation and began to rock his hips gently, holding Levi’s waist with shaky hands. Levi wrapped his legs around Eren’s back and rocked back against him impatiently.

Eren felt that familiar adrenaline surge of competitive spirit and slammed his hips forwards suddenly, properly thrusting into Levi now. Levi let out a contorted yell and grinded back against Eren’s pace, which was getting faster and deeper by the thrust. 

Eren tipped his head back and lost himself in the movement of skin against skin, viciously canting his hips so he could bury himself up to the hilt in Levi. He kept moving, faster and harder, his fingernails carving deep lines down Levi’s torso as he scrambled for purchase against the smooth skin. 

Levi was wholeheartedly yelling now, every vicious thrust causing his back to arch and howl Eren’s name. Finally Eren began to feel the tell-tale coil in the pit of his stomach that alerted him of his impending orgasm. He drove himself hard into Levi whilst using his grip on the older man’s hips to tug him backwards into the movement. 

Eren felt his body spark with a rush and then short-circuiting as he came moments after Levi did, feeling it like a blow to the gut he spilt inside Levi. They both froze where they were positioned, gasping for air. Eren on his knees on the couch and Levi balancing precariously on the cushioned arm, legs still wrapped around him. 

Eren started uncomfortably out of the memory as he came in his bed, the hand he had pumping his cock slowing to a halt. He sighed and cleaned himself up with a t-shirt on the floor that he was going to wash anyway and sloped off to the bathroom to have a shower, eager to see Levi again that evening.


	21. Bad Reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After about a million years, I'm finally updating! Hurrah! As always, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter :)

REINER’S POV

Reiner rocked up to Annie’s house twenty minutes late with a bottle of Jack Daniels, in the best mood he had been in for months. He had spend almost every waking minute since Saturday with Bertolt, and even his sleeping ones wrapped around the other boy’s lanky frame, arms draped over his slim hips and nose buried in the nape of his neck.

Bertl had gone home earlier that day to put on some clothes that weren’t Reiner’s and get some of the work he had been set over the summer done, and Reiner couldn’t wait to see him again. They had only spent hours apart, but their close co-dependency was even more apparent now they were a couple.

Reiner opened the Leonhart’s front door and wandered in, following the loud music that echoed through the halls to it’s source in the basement. In the last four days he and Bertolt had awkwardly navigated their boundaries, casual kisses and affection were the limit right now, as neither of them had much experience and Reiner was still pretty confused.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find Bertolt attractive by any means, but he wasn’t willing to delve into layers of intimacy when things were so good as they were; the kind and easy touches that transpired between the two of them were enough for him right now, and he didn’t want to rush into anything too quickly, not if it was their close-knit friendship at stake.

He opened the door to the basement and the swell of the music rushed over him as he walked in, along with the general roar of enthusiasm of his friends at his belated arrival,  
It appeared that he was the last one there besides Bertolt; Hanji, Connie and Jean had already started dancing along to a Joan Jett track blaring out of the boombox, Eren and his midget boyfriend were talking on the couch, Marco and Armin were talking in the corner and Sasha was toking off a bowl with Mikasa and Annie. 

‘ _I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange I ain't gonna change_ ’

Reiner moved into the room and returned Eren’s wave, placing his bottle onto the table with a clunk and helping himself to a beer from the omnipresent and forever lukewarm cooler. He scanned the room a second time, ensuring he hadn’t simply missed Bertolt’s presence. He was disappointed with the result that in fact, Bertolt just wasn’t there yet. He necked a good portion of his drink before noticing that Armin was beckoning him over.

He dodged Jean’s wayward version of the twist as he traversed the room to join Armin and Marco in their corner of secrecy and freckles.  
“Hey Reiner!” Marco chirped with a typically cheerful smile. His face had mostly cleared up from the fight the previous weekend, only his lip was a little swollen now.  
“Yo man, what’s the deal with this?” Reiner enquired with a smile of his own “More weird Arlert-scheming?”  
Arming grinned and nodded. “Yup, well sort of. Did you know that Sasha and Connie.. Like each other?”

Reiner just rolled his eyes at that. “Of course I fucking knew it’s obvious! Why, have the pair of morons still not got their shit together?”  
Marco shook his head, which dislodged his collar a little. Reiner’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “MARCEL BODT, are those fucking lovebites?!”  
“My name is not Marcel! And um,” he blushed the same tone as a fire-engine. “Yes, yes they are.”

Totally distracted by this development Reiner shouted across the blaring music to the makeshift dance floor. “FUCKING HELL, KIRSTEIN.”  
The track ended as he spoke, leaving the room bathed in awkward static.  
“What?” Jean asked, eyes a little bloodshot.  
“You! You besmirched our Lord and Saviour Freckled Jesus, you giant bag of dicks!”

Levi snorted with laughter at that, and everyone else in the room kept their giggles internal as Jean squirmed and looked sheepish. “..Well, maybe a little, yes.” He concluded as Sasha burst into peals of laughter along with the rest of the group. Reiner just raised his eyes heavenward and prayed that maybe one day his friends wouldn’t be such a load of idjits. 

“Like you can talk Rei, where’ve you and Bertl been these last few days?” Connie called over, which Reiner didn’t dignify with a response. He just flipped him off and busied himself with drinking his beer; he still didn’t want to go public about him and Bertolt just yet, even if it was just his trusted friends.

Another round of laughs coursed around the room and Reiner allowed the atmosphere of carefree adolescent happiness absorb him for a while, dancing outrageously with Jean before retiring to do shots with the rest of the group.

After two rounds his fresh bottle of JD was fairly depleted, and he checked his watch out of habit. Nine o’clock, and Bertolt still wasn’t here. He decided to leave it another hour, and if he wasn’t here by then he would abscond upstairs to use Annie’s phone and check up on him.

JEAN’S POV

As per Jean’s usual demand, they knocked back a few shots then went out to the garden to play a game of truth or dare. After his slut-shaming from Reiner earlier, he was going to make that fucker pay. The walk out of the basement was chock-full of stumbling and giggling, his head fairly lucid after two shots, three beers, four pulls on the bong and a quaalude. 

He slumped on the grass, appreciating it’s spongy, luscious touch on his bare arms, before sitting up and subsequently dragging Marco into his lap. Marco was also looking pretty jonesed, his eyes a touch bloodshot and his breath smelling a little like whiskey. Jean dizzily thought that was appropriate considering that was what the umber shade of his eyes always reminded him of. 

The rest of the group congregated around them, all pretty juiced. Connie and Hanji were still necking down Quaaludes like they were M&M’s, Jean was pretty surprised that it wasn’t Sasha sitting next to him and guffawing at his humpback whale impression; Connie’s usual partner in crime was sitting the other side of the circle quietly talking to Armin.

Armin was doing a lot of quiet talking tonight from what Jean had noticed, even tearing his lovely dance partner away from him to huddle in the corner earlier. He absently wondered what he was plotting, but his head was too preoccupied with it’s gentle spinning and the smell of Marco to pay it much mind.

He pressed a quick kiss to the freckle on Marco’s temple and hooked his chin over the taller boy’s shoulder to talk. “So, we gonna do this or what?”  
“Fuuuck yes we are Jea-Neigh boy!” Connie was pretty fucked actually, chuckling into Hanji’s shoulder as he shot him a look. “Gimme a dare. Go on, I fear nothing you hear me, nothing!”

Jean cackled at that, trying to come up with the worst dare he could think of before Armin interjected. “I’ve got one, seven minutes in heaven in the shed.” A chorus of ‘ooooohs’ echoed around the circle before Armin could keep talking, this took a while because Eren and Reiner wouldn’t stop doing it every time he opened his mouth until Levi planted a loving elbow in Eren’s stomach and forced him to cut it out.

Jean found himself liking Levi more and more actually, despite his general scariness. What Eren saw in him besides his obvious good looks were beyond him: this guy had a tough exterior and an interior made of knives and broken glass from what Jean could tell. But obviously there was something there, as after Eren stopped retching he wrapped an arm around Levi and squeezed him tight, looking into his eyes with a dopey grin and eyes that betrayed the most blatant affection Jean had ever seen.

He still didn’t like Eren obviously, he was a dumb uppity brat with anger management problems; but it seemed to Jean that he had found an equally angry brat to hang out with. Armin waited patiently before continuing, “seven minutes in heaven Connie! With…. Sasha!” His badly mimed spontaneity at that decision made Jean giggle a little, and he immediately understood what all the hushed conversation was about, Armin was going to make the pair of idiots figure out what was making them act so weird lately.

Jean had definitely noticed that he scarcely seen them interact all evening, which was unusual- normally they’d be clambering all over each other by this point and making stupid little in-jokes which made them piss themselves with laughter and everyone else just look on bemusedly. 

Armin’s words had definitely knocked Connie off his high though, his face rushing to a sickly pallor. Sasha looked like someone had punched her square in the cunt, her flushed cheeks quickly paling too. “Yeah go on then dare king and queen, prove you’re worth your titles!” Hanji called out, her words punctuated by cheering from Reiner and Marco. 

“Sure, whatever. This shed?” Connie said, his voice substantially subdued.  
“That’s the one.” Annie replied from her perch on Mikasa’s lap. Huh, Jean hadn’t noticed that developing, but he figured he was happy for the stoic pair if they were an item. Then again, girls did shit like that all the time, casual affection and all that, which actually reminded him of something.

“Yo!” He called out, distracting everyone from Connie’s inelegant staggering to his feet. “Where the fuck are Christa and Ymir at?”  
“They’re having a night in I think, they still think we’re oblivious to the fact they’re screwing.” Marco replied matter-of-factly. “Actually I think they’re planning to announce their relationship soon, which is dumb as fuck considering we already figured that out the moment they started cuddling at any opportune moment.”

Jean nodded solemnly, “should we pretend to be surprised when they tell us?”  
“Nah,” Annie called from atop Mikasa, “I don’t even think we should bother with it, people two states away can probably sense that sexual tension.” Jean nodded sagely, well rather bopped his head against Marco’s warm shoulder twice and tried to look wise doing it. 

In the midst of this conversation, Connie had slunk off to the shed and Sasha had followed, the door loudly closing and silence settling over the teenagers. “And now, we wait.” Said Reiner, with a dramatic gesture and two quaalude tablets tumbling down his throat.


	22. Carry On My Wayward Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing finally happened guys. Nice speedy update hooray, hope ya'll like it :)

CONNIE’S POV

Connie was pretty buzzed before they all stepped outside, but as the shed door slammed shut behind Sasha he could feel his heart throbbing in triple time. It was dark inside the dilapidated wooden construct, and the silence was physically painful. All he could hear were the uncomfortable triplets wracking his chest cavity and thrumming around his skull. 

“Um, I think I’ve found the light switch.” Sasha muttered, before flipping it on and letting the amber beams illuminate the shed. Connie perched on a lawnmower that looked like it had seen better days and tried to make his heartbeat slow to a less agonizing pace. The shed was cramped and now he could see Sasha standing less than a metre away from him, so close he could smell her perfume, a comforting aroma of rose and peppermint. 

Connie couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say. She had pretty much ignored him all evening, opting to sit with Mikasa and Annie rather than outrageously dance with him like she usually did. 

“So, I’m guessing you’re pretty bummed out you’re stuck in here with me and not Hanji.” Sasha said curtly, leaning herself against the opposite wall from Connie and his lawnmowing steed. He tried to figure out her angle with that comment; he had spent most of the night with Hanji, yeah. Was she just making conversation? Was she trying to insinuate something? 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His reply came too early in his thought process and came out too barbed and snarky for his liking.  
“Oh, nothing. Just that you too seem to be getting along.. Really well.”

It clicked in Connie’s fuzzy mind. Sasha was jealous? Of him hanging out with Hanji? He couldn’t really bring himself to be sympathetic, his heart and head hurt too much- she was right there and she had no fucking clue how he felt, and he had no fucking clue how to tell her.

“Yeah, well it’s not like you were vying to talk to me. Seriously what is your fucking issue? You went to the mall without me, you haven’t called me all weekend, and then now you’re suddenly avoiding me like the plague?” Connie’s outburst was a little slurred, his words running and sprawling over each other haphazardly, but Sasha still went pale.

She mumbled a little, and normally Connie would be more calm and empathetic about the whole ordeal but he was drunk and his heart was aching from the combination of pills and unrequited love. 

“I didn’t quite catch that, _sorry_. Was that betrayal you were trying to wrap your tongue around? Or Shit-brows Smith’s dick? I thought you were my best friend Sasha, I thought we had a mutual caring-about-each other thing going on here but apparently not, just me doing way too much caring and you none at all.”

His voice had raised progressively louder through his tirade, all his feelings of loneliness and longing fuelling his anger that she could just toss him aside like he didn’t matter.

“Is that what you fucking think? That I fucking ‘betrayed’ you because I didn’t want to hang out for a few days? And shut your goddamn mouth about Erwin, I didn’t do diddly-squat with him besides have a dance at The Pirripin.”

Now she was yelling too, the noise and the venom behind her words scalding Connie’s ears. “What the fuck did I do wrong? We used to spend every spare second we had together Sasha, I thought that meant something!”

“It does fucking mean something! I just needed a few days to get my head straight okay?”  
“Get your head straight about what exactly?”  
“It doesn’t matter. Go out there and cuddle up to Hanji, that’s what you want isn’t it?”

By this point Connie was livid. His internal filter had officially switched off- how dare she presume to know what he wanted? 

“No it fucking isn’t, don’t condescend me like you know what I want, you have no idea.”

Unfortunately, she was just as angry now.

“Your right Connie, I don’t have any idea because news flash you jackass- you stopped calling me first. You shut me out first! You’ve been acting so weird recently and you haven’t told me a word about why, so don’t give me the whole ‘you pushed me away’ speech, because you fucking well started it!” She breathed hard, her eyes hard and glinting in the dim light. “You haven’t told me shit over the last few weeks and it’s been fucking awful, so why don’t you tell me Connie, what do you want? Or is it something I could never comprehend because I’m so preoccupied with Erwin’s dick? What do you want.”

The dam broke. “For fuck’s sake Sasha, all I want is _you_.” Connie’s voice cracked horrifically but he couldn’t stop talking now. “It didn’t occur to me until I saw you dancing with Erwin and it physically made my heart ache, and it’s not fair that you sit here and throw insults at me because I am in so much pain every time I look at you because, jesus fucking christ, I love you. And I’m not ever going to be able to have you.”

His voice had diminuendoed down to a whisper riddled with his own self-pity. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, to see the contempt on Sasha’s face; or even the worse, the sympathy. He had spoiled everything now, driven a wedge between them that he could never remedy after saying all that, So he kept his eyes trained on his sneakers scuffing against the ground as the seconds of silence stretched into molasses which wrapped around his heartstrings and squeezed them until he thought he might cry out.

Then he felt cool fingertips around his neck, and a thumb under his chin forcing him to look up. Sasha was there, her face inches from his own. “Oh Cons.” she breathed out with a broken note of laughter on the end.

Connie searched her eyes for what he had been expecting, the pity, the ‘sibling love’ she felt for him. The excuses for why they would never work out as a couple which Connie knew was absolute bollocks because Sasha evoked feelings of happiness and sorrow in him more than anything else he had ever encountered. 

But none of that was there. The furious glint in her eyes had melted into something softer, the look on her face was of unflinching affection, of happiness, and dare Connie think it, love? “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, catching her thumb with his hand and brushing his own calloused thumb down it’s length.

“Don’t be sorry, you massive fucking berk.”  
Then Sasha kissed him. Actually kissed him. She tasted like everything he loved; of bongwater and whisky, of bonfire smoke and mint and Summer nights and sea-salt. Connie let his eyes slid shut and kissed her back, feeling all the things he had supposed were myths about a first kiss; symphonies in his head and butterflies thrashing in his stomach. The kiss was gentle and reverential but he still made a disappointed sound when Sasha drew away.

“Wait, what was that? Does that mean..?”  
“I feel the same, you retard.” Sasha grinned and Connie felt something shunt into place in his heart again. He beamed like he hadn’t in what felt like decades and leapt to his feet, pulling her into a hug that lifted her off her feet and spun her around. She laughed, a proper Sasha laugh which warmed his heart and soul and made him feel like he could rule the universe if he wanted to. He put her down and laughed too, blushing just a little when she planted another kiss on his cheek, and then he heard a ruckus outside. 

He jerked his head towards the door and shuffled his eyebrows around in a quizzical manner, Sasha just poorly imitated his eyebrow shuffle and shrugged, before taking direct action and kicking the door open.

The rest of their friends were stood around the tiny shed, obviously eavesdropping on their confrontation. The door swung open and narrowly missed Eren, who's reaction times weren't exactly up to scratch by this point in an evening, and as they emerged from the shed the garden burst into cheers.  
“It’s about fucking time!” Jean hollered over the cacophony. Connie felt a little embarrassed, but frankly couldn’t give a shit that they had all heard his confession because he was holding Sasha's hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and she was wearing an identical sheepish expression to his. The entire world could fuck off because finally, fucking finally, the short guy got the girl.


	23. Take On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, another chapter for you lovely lot :) incessant thanks for any and all kudoses, bookmarks and comments, you are my inspiration guys

EREN’S POV

Besides a vicious elbow to the stomach earlier and narrowly avoiding a concussion a matter of minutes later, Eren’s evening had been nothing short of stellar. Most of the party had retreated inside to indulge in more dancing and drinking, leaving Levi and himself to their own devices out on the lawn.

The dusky skies were only briefly caressed by the mottled gossamer of clouds, leaving the pair a nice view of the stars. Head spinning more than a little, Eren was content to burrow his head into where Levi’s toned shoulder met his collarbone and just breathe in his scent whilst watching his pale fingers trace the outlines of the constellations suspended above them. 

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is?” Levi’s voice floated from above him and Eren could feel the vibrations of his voice from where his head was rested near his chest. “Sure I do, it’s pretty fucking huge right?” Eren tried to keep any slurring to a minimum, but wasn’t totally sure he managed it.

Levi snorted and the sudden exhalation caused another wave through Eren’s body. “I’m glad to hear my colourful vocabulary is rubbing off on you so well.. But yeah, it is really fucking huge, I don’t know, it always makes me think. Even when I’m not fucked up on bad whiskey and shoddy basement hotboxing, it’s just so intimidating. The idea of infinity. Of how totally insignificant we’re destined to be. Oblivion is only 62.5 miles away at any given moment, and that scares me. It scares me so fucking much Eren.”

Eren mulled his words over, appreciating the arm which had wormed it’s way around his shoulders during his speech and was pulling them close together. It made sense he supposed, Levi, a man cleansed by fire and steel of any fear that mankind could warrant from him. He doubted Levi feared pain or retribution, or even death really. That helped to put into perspective his irrational phobia of the universe. Of something utterly beyond his own influence. He gave enunciating these thoughts a try.

“Everyone’s scared of the idea of infinity, Lev. It’s terrifying and it bears down on the world constantly how futile things are and how every tentative step humanity takes could all be undone in seconds, but I think that’s what makes life beautiful.”

Levi glanced at him, maybe in retaliation to his new nickname, but Eren forged ahead with his speech regardlessly.

“Like, if there wasn’t a chance that it could all be snatched away, nothing would ever change right? But they do, we adapt and evolve and cherish moments because we know that we can never recreate them, and because our time is so short it doesn’t even matter. It means we have to live like any second fire and brimstone and giants could tear the earth apart, and therefore we appreciate it. Life is fleeting and irrelevant, but that’s what makes it so indulgent and beautiful. And as for infinity, well, I figure there are worse places to spend eternity than here.”

He trailed off awkwardly, none of his words quite as poetic and illuminating as he had hoped they would be. He twisted himself around to face Levi, whose eyes were fixated on him. Eren looked into his eyes, totally blindsided by his staring. They were slate-grey as usual, the weed making them a tinge more puffy and red than normal however.

“You..” Levi’s voice was rough and raspy from the exposure to smoke and burning spirits that he had poured down it earlier, but affection rang through the coarse tones. “You are the most incredible idiot I’ve ever had the pleasant misfortune of meeting, Eren Jaeger.” 

Then he kissed Eren, not with fire or lust, none of the searing passion that he had felt from Levi before- he kissed him with reverence. It was gentle, worshipping almost. Like Eren was the most precious thing that he had ever encountered and he couldn’t vocalise that, so instead he poured them into the chaste brush of lips that transpired between them now. 

Eren kissed him back with equal tenderness. They had their first falling out, first fuck, now they had surpassed all the shitty quotas, Eren felt himself relax. He sighed brokenly against Levi’s mouth and wrapped his arms around his neck, losing himself in the dizzying sweetness and intimacy of the moment; their bodies totally flush together and the stars glinting above them like luminescent sentries. 

He could feel Levi’s lips curl into a smile whilst still pressed against his own, and he was just so fucking gone from there. The combination of drink and drugs and overwhelming compassion he felt towards Levi left his heart feeling soft and full, bursting with the potentials of tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day that would inevitably follow that one. 

Eren wondered to himself whether this was what love felt like, flying and sinking and being rooted perfectly to the ground. He thought it was. That in turn caused another giddy spin in his head. Love, he was most definitely falling in love.

How long they lay like that, entwined and in gentle reverence of one another, Eren couldn’t really gauge, but the illusion was shattered when Jean decided it would be a cool thing to do if he dumped a bucket of icy water on them from Annie’s bedroom window. 

Eren and Levi did not think it was a cool thing. Eren leapt up on the moment of contact with the freezing liquid, accidentally kicking Levi a little. “FUCKING HELL, Kirstein you little shit! Get over here you son of a-” He paused mid-rant to cast his eyes to Levi, checking he was okay.

Levi was looking up at him with a wry expression on his face. “Go kick his horsey little ass Eren, give him a slap upside the head from me too. I’ll see you afterwards.”

Eren bent down to give him a final kiss before his crusade on Jean Kirstein’s life began, and with that tore off through the house, still soaked with the chilled water. He took the stairs two at a time, following the echo of hysterical laughter. He narrowly avoided Connie and Sasha making out at the top of the stairs, taking a moment from his very first attempt at murder to make some not-very convincing retching noises in their direction. 

“Shut up Jaeger-butt!” A too-stoned-to-be-even-slightly-witty Connie yelled after him, and Eren heard Sasha cracking up. It wasn’t even funny, stupid fucking loved-up potheads.  
He jogged the hall, and bursted into Annie’s room dramatically. The tableau in front of him was so douchey it was almost comical. 

Jean was still laughing like he had a six-pack coming on, which was physically impossible because horses don’t have abs, Eren thought. Reiner, the gigantic Judas, was also raucous with laughter, attempting to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. Armin, the smaller Judas, was also trying to muffle giggles vainly. Fucking ‘Take On Me’ was playing in the background.

Mikasa was sat in the corner with Annie in her lap and they were both also chuckling at him, and Eren made a mental note to ask his sister what the goddamn deal-io was with her and the cold blonde girl. But that would be in the future, because in the now Eren was throwing himself across the room to try and slap Jean in the head in the name of his beloved. 

In reality, he just caused the both to fall on the floor and tussle around like a pair of twelve year olds, the epic battle happening along to the crooning of A-ha. At one point Reiner joined in and Jean screamed for Marco, who leant into the room for a moment, observed the chaos and gave a soft, succinct, “no, I am so fucking done.” before going to sit with Armin and complain jokingly about his idiot boyfriend. 

“Bet that isn’t the first time you’ve screamed for Marco, eh Jean?” Reiner chuckled as he sat up. “Speaking of idiot boyf-, um, boys, it’s gone ten and Bertl still isn’t here. I’m gonna go give him a ring.”

And with that Reiner absconded away the downstairs hallway to call him, and the violence gradually decelerated from there on out. “I thought Reiner was 119% opposed to you besmirching Marco?” Eren called from the bed to Jean, who was curled up with his head in Marco’s lap.

“Reiner is as Reiner does, if there’s a potential dirty joke, he’s gonna jump on that.”  
Jean replied, voice a little muffled. Eren nodded in acquiescence and against his better judgement accepted a beer from Armin.

The stupid fucking loved-up potheads joined them shortly afterwards, Sasha joining Eren and Armin in exchange for a beer, and Connie sitting on Marco’s lap, and therefore Jean’s head. “Get off me you needle-assed little shit! Goddamnit I swear to god-” And then Connie farted, and everyone fucking lost it. 

Eren was laughing so hard he barely noticed Reiner entering the room, tears of laughter blurring his vision. He tried to wipe his eyes half-heartedly, only half listening when Armin asked Reiner what was up. 

The tone of Reiner’s voice made Eren’s eyes dry up faster than a puddle in their desert.  
“It’s Bert. I called his house, and his ma picked up.” His voice was stilted, fraught with distress. “I asked when Bert was coming to Annie’s and she just goes ‘what?’ like I’m losing my fucking mind, ‘Bertolt left to come to the party about an hour ago.’" 

Any laughter rang hollow. Now Reiner's voice was low, hysterical and had some much concern wreathed in it Eren thought he might be sick. _“Guys he left an hour ago, and he isn’t here, so where the fuck is he?”_


	24. Love Will Tear Us Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY (kind of)

REINER’S POV

Reiner had abandoned the chaos of Annie’s room with a hop, skip and a jump over Sasha and Connie who were still fucking attached at the mouth. At heart Reiner thought it was sweet, but it was also Sasha and Connie. He flicked Connie’s shaved scalp as he passed them, determinedly trekking downstairs to get to the phone.

“Hey, quit that you, you fastidious fuck-trumpet!” Sasha laughed wholeheartedly at Connie’s completely un-witty repartee, and Reiner inwardly thanked the lord that those pair of idiots had found each other. If not their respective partners would have probably murdered them by now.

He got to the phone and dialled Bertolt’s home number. He was more pissed off than anything else, and a little worried. Had the time of them being a part, even a matter of hours, convinced Bertolt that he was better off without Reiner?  
His ma picked up on the third ring.  
“Hello, Hoover household”  
“Hi Mrs Hoover, it’s Reiner.”

“Oh hello Reiner, how can I help you?” her voice warmed, a testament to how close Bertolt and Reiner had become over the years; his parents fawned over him. Although he wasn’t sure they’d been so keen if they found out he was currently in the process of pursuing a relationship with him. Reiner pushed these thoughts from his mind and replied.

“I was just wondering when Bertolt was going to come over to Annie’s? We’ve been expecting him for a few hours now.”  
“What?”  
There was a pregnant pause.  
“Reiner sweetheart, Bertl left for Annie’s more than an hour ago, by my watch.”  
“..What?”

Reiner’s blood ran hot, then cold; the simultaneously scalding and icy rush in his veins causing him to shake.  
“His truck is gone and everything.. Are you telling me he hasn’t made it over?”  
He barely heard Mrs Hoover’s voice through the ringing sensation piercing his ears, he was going into fully-blown catatonic panic mode.

“No, he hasn’t. I’m going to go look for him now. I’ll be in contact.”  
Reiner methodically hung up the phone and walked up the stairs, one step at a time. He felt like he was floating. Where was Bertolt? Had he ran off, or been mugged? A thousand scenarios, each as catastrophic as the last raced through Reiner’s mind.  
He stumbled into Annie’s room, half blind and dumb with shock. Bertolt. His Bertolt, was missing. The room was alive with laughter and Connie was being knocked on his ass by Jean, but the hit of adrenaline coursing around his system had caused his drunken state to evaporate almost instantly. 

Armin was the first to notice him, standing by the door like he was caught between two alternate dimensions. In one his friends were safe and happy and giggling their tits off at some dumb escapade; and in the other all he could see was Bertolt, Bertolt dying, Bertolt bleeding, the light in his olive eyes long extinguished.

“What’s up Rei?” He asked cautiously.  
“It’s Bert. I called his house, and his ma picked up.” Reiner’s quaking voice shattered the laughter in the room. It sounded alien and brittle, even to himself.  
“I asked when Bert was coming to Annie’s and she just goes ‘what?’ like I’m losing my fucking mind, ‘Bertolt left to come to the party about an hour ago.’"

He could feel his grip slipping. Faces stared back at him, a mixture of stricken and uncomprehending “Guys he left an hour ago, and he isn’t here, so where the fuck is he?”  
Reiner’s voice properly broke then, and his shoulders began shaking in earnest. The room was deadly silent, only the faint strains of music reverberating through the air.

_‘..Yet there's still this appeal, that we've kept through our lives. But love, love will tear us apart again.'_

Joy Divison? Reiner thought, are you guys fucking serious? Armin was the first to snap out of his stupefied state. “Okay, so what do we know, that he left his place but never arrived here? Was he walking..?”

Reiner shook his head, glad that someone was in a decent enough state to make a competent plan. “She said his truck was gone from the drive.” Armin nodded curtly before standing up. “Alright guys, Connie you go with Marco and Hanji to check around Maria Road for him, okay? Sasha, you Eren and Annie search the park. Mikasa, take Levi and Jean with you to look around Sina Street. Reiner, you and I will head to Rose Terrace and have a look around there for him. If you don’t see anything, meet outside Annie’s and we’ll broaden our search, everyone got that?”

The teenagers nodded blearily, spurned into action and pseudo-sobriety by the solemnity of the situation. Reiner felt himself being led by the hand downstairs by Annie, the ground flitting beneath his feet like a mirage. He felt like he was floating an inch above everything else in this hyper-reality. 

He scarcely felt the brisk night air lash over his skin as he listlessly followed the blonde head in front of him, one foot in front of the other was all his mind could cope with at the moment. He felt Annie pull him into a brief hug which expressed all the anguished words she couldn’t say right now, and push him down the road after Armin.

The adrenaline that had kept him wired for a few minutes was dulling into a headache and a bad case of the spins now, Reiner had drunk six or so shots and something evil and absurd had possessed him to knock down two of the weird pills that Connie and Hanji had been stuffing their faces with all night.

Armin turned around the corner in front of him, before coming back around and blocking Reiner’s way. He look like he had been bitch-slapped by a ghost.  
“Rei, don’t go round there okay? I’m gonna knock at this house here and ask to use their phone. Just sit tight, please.”

Armin turned and started up a quaint garden path. Reiner’s discombobulated mind struggled to scoop up the connotations of what Armin had just said to him, splintered fragments which bounced around his uncomprehending brain like shrapnel. 

Don’t go around the corner, he’s using someone’s phone. 

Why did he need a phone? Why couldn’t Reiner go around the corner? 

Then it hit him with a force akin to the first time Reiner had slipped up on the football field and been tackled; mean momentum knocking the wind out of him and eyes rolling back with shock as he tumbled to the floor mid-stride. Before he had regained control of his capacities, he felt his feet moving, he was running, running around the street corner. 

A familiar red truck was there, beat-up and much loved. If he squinted, he could probably see where his name was scratched into the familiar trailer’s paint-job. Except the truck was alien too. In this parallel dimension where Reiner was trapped, the cab was dented in, a monstrous curvature of metal had steepled inwards. It was opposite another incoming road, shunted by force up onto the pavement.

That was Bertolt’s red truck. Bertolt’s red truck had been T-boned. Reiner’s legs didn’t stop moving; he ran onwards, stumbling across asphalt and gas gushing out of the disfigured truck. He didn’t stop running until he reached the cab. The glass was shattered to the point he couldn’t see past all the white cravasses and in desperation he tried the passenger door which was jammed shut in it’s mauled state.

He hopped the bonnet and tried the other door, which was dented but usable. Reiner wrenched it open, and burst into tears like a little girl. 

There sat his Bertolt. Bertolt he had walked home and kissed goodbye a matter of hours ago, sat pallid and unmoving. His head was oozing out scarlet, and a chunk of glass from the windscreen had gruesomely embedded itself in his shoulder. The dashboard had cracked and shifted on impact so it was weighing down heavily on his long, lithe legs. 

“Bertolt? Bertolt open your goddamn eyes.” Reiner’s voice sounded unfamiliar to him, quavering and cracking with a little sob worming it’s way out. He reached into the cab but didn’t dare dislodge him- rationally he knew that it would take more than a brawny teenage boy to shift the weight of the dashboard off him. Trembling, he took Bertolt’s hand. It was cold, and Reiner couldn’t bear to take a pulse.

He leant his head into Bertolt’s chest which smelt of diesel and distress and Reiner’s coconut-scented laundry detergent, and clutched his hand to his own chest. There he stood, sobbing until it felt like his throat was lined with wire and his eyes ached. Until the sound of police sirens began to echo down the suburbs.


	25. When The Levee Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A HAPPY STORY??!?!!?
> 
> yeah me too. *sobs and curses my dastardly imagination*
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

JEAN’S POV

Being stuck in a hospital waiting room for the best part of six hours had stripped Jean down the most basic of instincts. The primary one being concern; every time a doctor walked through he flinched up in his seat like someone had jammed a tazer up his ass and decided to have some fun. He needed news, information, anything on Bertolt. But alas every time he gave an aborted spasm in the direction of one of the medical staff they would just shake their head sadly at him and keep moving through the room.

The secondary one was discomfort, said seat was having a dire effect on said ass. He felt like his backside had been moulded flat by the uncomfortable surface, and almost twelve hours awake was starting to take it’s toll. Next to him sat Connie, in a similarly comatose state. Eren and Levi were sat two seats down, hands entwined and talking in low voices. Sasha was there too, literally comatose. She was dead asleep against Connie’s shoulder, his lean arm wrapped around her protectively. 

Lastly was Marco. Last time he had seen him had been on Sina Street, his mind was muddy with the ebb and flow of his sobriety sloshing around in his skull, but he could sort of recall their parting. Eren’s vicious impy boyfriend was there and so was Mikasa, He could remember Marco holding him in the muggy night breeze, pressing a hurried kiss in his two-tone hair and whispering fiercely, “stay safe, Jean.”

And with that he was tearing away after Connie and Hanji down the road, leaving Jean to mumble “I love you” to thin air. Parts of the evening came rolling back to him in fragments and snatches. The wail of the ambulance, falling as he ran to keep pace with Mikasa and Levi, (the damned athletic weirdos) as they all sprinted towards the source of the cacophony. Reiner in fits of tears as they all watched, stricken as the medics sawed chunks of metal off and away from Bertolt’s broken frame. 

They stood like gargoyles, frozen and grotesque as he was loaded into the ambulance and driven away towards the hospital, the banshee-like echo reverberating around the desolated streets. From there Armin had taken charge, herding them all back to the house with Levi and Annie’s help. Once there he had called Ymir, asking if she could drive some of them to the hospital. Those people had ended up being Jean himself, Levi riding shotgun, Eren to his left and Connie with Sasha on his lap to the right. 

Armin had promised they would come in the morning to see how Bertolt was doing, with the additional gifts of food and a change of clothes. He had made Reiner stay behind too, despite his arguments to the contrary. 

Jean took a moment to reflect on how invaluable Armin was; Reiner was drunk and heartbroken and staunchly set on coming with them to the hospital, but Armin had sat him down, said a few quiet words into his ear and he had relinquished his protests in favour of sitting in silence.

Jean had almost prefered it when he was yelling and getting pissed off, at least then he hadn’t seemed so defeated. He wished he could sleep, just to rid himself of some of the anxiety that was lapping at him like waves, each stronger and more determined than the last. 

For the first time in a week, Jean felt the twitch in his eye that made him want to dive for the pills and sedate himself out of caring. Over the past seven days he had smothered himself in Marco’s presence and that had eased withdrawal symptoms, although he still lay awake long after Marco had drifted off the sleep in his arms. 

He may be a beautiful little freckled Jesus, but he wasn’t a quick-fix for every stupid problem in Jean’s life. It didn’t change his ruined sleeping pattern, or his hot temper; nor his affinity with depression or the fact he hadn’t seen his parents physically in a week, nor emotionally eye to eye with either of them since he was ten years old.

Jean pushed these thoughts away; now really wasn’t the time for self-pity. One of his closest friends was possibly in the process of dying right now, and there really wasn’t not a fucking thing anyone could do about it. He decided to focus on his almighty headache, the glaring white of the rising sun reflecting off the pristine walls doing nothing to remedy it. 

“-Are you even fucking listening to me? JEAN!”  
He snapped out of his stupor and angled his head towards Eren, who was irritatedly calling his name. “Yuh?” He said eloquently.  
“I said, do you know when Marco and that are going to get here with food and clothes and shit?”  
“Nuh.” Jean replied succinctly.  
Marco. Man, he missed Marco. He would do almost anything for triads of freckles and strong arms wrapped around him right now.

Moments stretched out like hours, only punctuated by the coughing of old people also taking refuge in the waiting room and Connie tapping a nervous rhythm on his knee until Jean mustered the energy to elbow him in the gut and telling him to knock it the fuck off.

His thoughts rotated mechanically;  
Bertolt.  
Man I need a coffee.  
Bertolt.  
This chair is going to fucking kill me.  
I need Marco here.  
Bertolt.  
Pills.  
Bertolt.  
I am so tired but I don’t think I can sleep.  
I hope Reiner’s okay.  
Bertolt.  
Marco.  
My head feels like Eren’s pride does every time we play beer pong.  
Bertolt.

It continued around the agonizing loop, only pausing to jolt at every passing doctor who in turn walked past, some with sympathetic looks and others wondering if he was some poor kid they had over-prescribed ritalin to. Time was difficult to gauge here, a clock’s hypnotic ticking reverberating through the room but for the life of him Jean couldn’t figure out where the stupid thing was.

Minutes or hours later there was a sudden influx of teenagers in the waiting room. Without a thought, Jean seeked out Marco and threw himself his arms, taking a long deep breath of his lavender scent. Marco giggled a little at his clingy embrace before drawing back.

“You smell like hangovers.” He said, Jean’s blunt, adorable knight in freckled armour. “I brought you, uh.” Marco gestured downwards to the objects cradled in his arms between them. Jean saw his favourite pair of jeans, his Stones shirt, and lord be blessed, a packet of cigarettes and some packaged Taco Bell. 

“Holy shit, I love you so fucking much.” Jean blurted out before pulling Marco into a much-needed kiss. It caused a myriad of throat-clearing amongst the other waiting room dwellers, and the old man who had been suspiciously eying Jean’s haircut before to have a fully-blown coughing fit.

Not that Jean really gave a damn, the old git could rupture his lung for all he cared right now. When he drew away Marco gave him a tender smile and smoothed down his wayward hair, what, after this long awake he was allowed to look a little dishevelled. 

“You taste like hangovers too.” Marco quipped. Jean just stuck his tongue out and said his hellos around the group before scarpering off to change into his fresh clothes and neck down his taco at a potentially dangerous speed.

He emerged minutes later, with a cigarette in his mouth. The newcomers had integrated themselves into the twitching anxiety of the waiting room; Annie sat with an arm around Reiner, murmuring soothing noises. Man, Jean wasn’t an unsympathetic guy or anything but Reiner looked like shit. His face was a crumpled blur of bloodshot eyes and the grey bags lining them. Ymir and Krista were sat with Armin and Mikasa, who was handing Eren and Levi a change of clothes each. Marco was with a now roused Sasha, who was putting away burritos even faster than Jean had. Connie sat with her, eating at a slightly more measured pace and trying to fill Marco in on what had happened. 

Jean stood still, observing the scene and enjoying the sensation of fresh underwear against his balls. After a minute, Ymir stood up with a packet of smokes and gestured for him to come out with her. He obliged, Levi and Marco also joining them.

It felt a little ironic to Jean, sparking a cigarette outside a hospital’s entrance, but he did it anyway, relaxing into the familiar burn in his throat and Marco’s arms around his waist. “So, what’s happened since I dropped you guys off?” Ymir asked as she exhaled a lungful of smoke.  
“Shit-all would be an exaggeration. Think less than shit-all. Negative shit-all in fact.” Levi said scowling. “Last they told us was that he was in surgery, followed by five hours of getting blanked by every douchey little intern that walked by.”  
Jean nodded, corroborating his story. “We literally don’t know a fucking thing. How’s everyone else been holding up?”

Ymir blew out another cloud of the noxious vapours before she began talking. “Reiner’s been in a fucking state obviously, and Annie hasn’t been that much better. She’s just better at not showing it. Christa’s putting on a brave face, bless her,” Ymir blushed a little, affection for the tiny blonde shining through every pore on her face before her expression set grimly again, “and Mikasa and Armin have been running around trying to keep everyone together. Hanji had to go to work but she says she’ll be here as soon as her shift’s done.”

Levi nodded and Marco hooked his chin over Jean’s shoulder to sneak a drag off his cigarette and press a quiet kiss into his earlobe. The silence settled for a few moments, until Connie came bombing out the double doors which led to the hospital foyer.  
“Guys.” He gasped, needing a moment to recover before spitting out whatever he had to say. “A doctor is here. He has news.” 

Without a word they all crushed out there respective cigarettes and bolted indoors, adrenaline fuelling Jean’s exhausted limbs. They skidded into the reception across the laminated tiles Breakfast Club-style; although they weren’t avoiding a douchey teacher, rather trying to hunt down a douchey doctor who hadn’t told them shit for about seven hours. 

They joined the cluster of their friends around a tall, solemn looking member of the medical staff. “..Mr Hoover has sustained a series of injuries, notably a large shard of glass in his shoulder which we removed without much trouble.” A collective sigh raced around the group, but Jean didn’t join in. From what he had seen, a dirty great chunk of glass was the least of Bertolt’s concerns.

“However,” the doctor continued, face looking a little more grim, “his legs are fairly mangled. Considering the damage we’ve assessed he could make anything from a full recovery to having serious motor problems for the rest of his life.” The collective sigh was gasped back in again.

“And furthermore, he has considerable head trauma. At the moment he is in an induced coma and we’re going to have to monitor his progress. I won’t lie to you kids, it’s all very touch-and-go at the moment.”

The collective sigh stayed lodged in their throats, until Reiner spoke up “Can we see him?” His voice was rough and ragged, totally devoid of it’s usual charisma. The doctor nodded. “Two or three at a time please, and obviously the local authority will be wanting a proper inquiry as to what happened last night.”

Nods circulated around the room and Reiner moved to follow the doctor, pulling Annie along with him. She scanned around the room, her gaze falling onto Jean.  
“Kirstein. He said two or three. Come on.”  
Her words were blunt and Jean couldn’t quite see the logic between bringing him, but he didn’t question it. He was pretty close with the guy; not Reiner-close but even so, they had spent copious amounts of time at the arcade together over the years and Jean was pretty emotionally stoic compared to some of the other idjits out there. He knew neither Annie nor Reiner could be dealing with theatrics right now.

He followed the blonde duo, their steps ringing through the halls like a funeral drum. The room Bertolt was in was small, and Jean really wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of him. He was so.. still. Even not in motion Bertolt had always been a fidget, constantly tapping and tinkering or smoking a cigarette. His shoulder was wrapped in thick layers of gauze and his legs had the covers drawn over them.

Jean was grateful for that, he wasn’t sure he could cope with seeing the full extent of damage that the crushed dashboard had done to his lanky frame. He was hooked up to more kinds of IVs and oxygen bags than Jean knew how to name, but that didn’t stop Reiner taking the seat next to him and interlacing their fingers.

“Hey Bertl-Turtle.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to his pale knuckles. Jean’s eyebrows initially raised so high in surprise he was amazed they didn’t simply get absorbed into his hairline, but he smothered his shock that beefy man’s-man Reiner was into guys and returned back into reeling over Bertolt’s broken body.

“The doctor said you’re doing good, I think you’re gonna be fine baby. You’re too strong to let something like this shut you down, eh?” Reiner continued to gently talk to Bertolt, fingertips gently caressing his hand. Jean couldn’t move, let alone speak. Annie was rooted to the group beside him, tears silently rolling down her face in a rare display of emotion.

Without thinking Jean pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her slight frame, gazing at the tragic scene in front of him as she buried her face in his chest and sobbed silently.


	26. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ABOUT TAKING FOREVER TO UPDATE; I AM SCUM, I KNOW.  
> But it's an extra-long chapter as apology for my scumminess.  
> Thank you a million times over for you support: every comment, bookmark and kudos makes me smile when I see it.  
> As always, hope you enjoy.

JEAN’S POV

Leaving the hospital room behind, Jean had felt like a fragment of his former self. Watching his friends decay in front of him, Bertolt physically, Reiner mentally and Annie even emotionally had driven a painful realism to the tragedy unfolding before his eyes. He had walked ten paces forward, then eleven right, straight into the arms of Marco.

He had abandoned his faith aged eleven and sceptical in the face of the divine, but in that moment he had prayed, prayed for Bertolt’s body and Reiner’s mind, for Annie’s heart and for Marco’s arms to never leave their position, one wrapped around his waist and the other gently moving in circles on his shoulder blades. Kind figures of eight, which seemed to sear themselves into his very soul. 

He loved Marco in that moment, as much as he had ever loved him and more. Perhaps it was that then he appreciated him as much as he always should have done. He only let himself break hours from then, on a burgundy couch once Mr and Mrs Bodt had gone to sleep And there he let Marco hold him again, ribs shaking and fingers clutching to freckled biceps, framing concerning eyes and their whisky hues in calloused fingertips. 

Jean let himself fall apart in those arms, letting cupid’s bow lips and kind smiles soothe his heart, only leaving his side for a cigarette on the street once the other boy had fallen asleep. Leaving the next morning was slow and painful, like tearing off a band-aid a millimetre at a time. A dozen kisses later and a slow walk back to his house, a fresh cigarette in hand, Jean was home. Much to his chagrin, so were his parents. He walked in the house, taking his time removing the jacket which had come to smell of lavender and pine, like Marco’s house, and his heavy boots. 

Entering the sitting room, his parents were in the dreaded position one on couch, both with identical pursed lips and frowning brows.  
“Jean, darling, please sit down.” his mother began. Jean obediently sat in the armchair, knowing that obstinance would get him nowhere with his mother.

“We need to talk to you, about some things.” His father continued solemnly.  
“I, I noticed a lot of the mediciene in the cabinet missing.” Mrs Kirstein’s voice faltered only slightly before resuming her business-like tone. “Your father and I have been growing concerned for a while about, well, the company you’re keeping at the moment, and the way your dressing, and oh- sweetheart you looked so handsome before you started wearing all that silly metal in your face, and-”  
“Mom. Please, is there a point to all this?” Jean didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but hey, getting shit from everyone about everything was something he had grown accustomed to. 

“Don’t take that tone with us, young man.” Mr Kirstein had always been a little less tactless than his wife, a stern expression blooming across his face. His mother’s brows remained on ‘detatched concern’. 

“What we’re trying to say is, we’re worried about you. That ambien is no joke, and if you’re struggling it puts us in a very difficult position.” Jean openly scoffed at that, of course it would be unbecoming of his mother to admit she was worried, no it had to be a ‘difficult position’. Something vague enough to not translate to ‘we are literally never here, sorry you’re acting so fucked up’.

“I know. I’ve stopped taking it. There was.. I was feeling pretty shitty, but I’m okay now. I promise.” Even as he said the words, Jean felt his migraine spike and his fingers twitched with the desire for something that could knock him out, maybe for a meagre eight hours just so he could catch up on sleep and forget the shit-filled maelstrom his life had morphed into.

Now his mother frowned. “There is no need for that kind of language. Do I have your word that you’re done with this kind of absurdity?” Jean nodded sullenly, and made an internal promise to get so fucked up that evening that people would need subtitles to understand him. He couldn’t stand that his mother took issue with his cussing, rather than that he had sloped into needing drugs to sleep. 

“Is that everything then?” Jean moved to stand up, but the stony expression on his parents faces melted him back into the armchair.  
“No, we’ve been thinking that our.. Absence has caused this rebellious streak in your appearance and choice in company-”  
“Jesus Christ dad, I don’t dress like this because I practically live alone aged seventeen, I just like it okay? And my friends are not an issue. They’re good people, honestly.”  
“-and we think we might have found a solution to this issue.”

Jean’s interupption had gone totally unnoticed as his father ploughed on with his speech, but now his interest was piqued. “Yeah? What were you thinking?”  
Now Mrs Kirstein piped up once more. “Well, darling, seeing as your father and I spend so much time in Nedlay anyway, we were considering.. Relocating there, up north. Permanently, and well, you’d be starting your Junior year this September and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get you a place at the academy there, and-”

Jean felt like he had been sucker-punched by a gigantic, angry gorilla.  
“Wait, what. Back the fuck up. No.” His parents inhaled sharply at his swearing but like father, like son, he continued talking anyway. “I am not moving to Nedlay. No way. My entire life is here in Stohess!”

His mother gave him a weary, patronising look, the same one she gave him as a child when he complained that they were never home, or when she explained that they couldn’t go to the park today because mother and father are busy with work. It was a look that said, you’re too young to understand. Well now Jean wasn’t too young thank you very much. “Jean sweetie, you will make new friends. And Nedlay has an outstanding sports programme-”  
“No mom, you aren’t listening to me. I’m not going. I can’t go.”

He thought at once of all the things he would move, upping and leaving to the city. Armin, Mikasa, even stupid shitty Eren, poor broken Bertolt and Reiner, Annie when she needed him most, Sasha and Connie and all their dumbfuckery, Ymir, Christa, Marco. Marco. The boy he wanted to have by his side now and always. Whisky-hued eyes and a scent like flowers. Living without that would be awful, ugly and unbearable. He needed a smile and freckled hands to make the world beautiful in his eyes. 

“Please. Don’t make me go. Everything I have is here.” Jean begged, tears welling up now as he reflected on all he would lose. Warm nights in the desert and long walks in the park with his arm around Marco’s waist; the sound of his friends laughing together and a kiss waking him up in the morning.

“Jean.” His father said with a warning tone. “It is not up for discussion.”  
Even through the blurry veil of tears, Jean knew that was it. He couldn’t sway his parents, not now, not ever. He stood up and walked out, ignoring his parents protests. He grabbed the jacket and shoes he had shed only minutes ago, before his world had been seized and twisted upside down. He strode straight out the house, only putting on his shoes once he was halfway down the road. He sat on the asphalt and pulling them on one by one, convulsive sobs making his hands shake uncontrollably. 

He stood up and walked after that, not even smoking because his lungs felt tight enough as it was. He made it to downtown before he really clocked where he was going, the hour or so walked vanished in his distressed state. He wandered from there, avoiding the mall and the bar where Eren, Levi and Erwin worked. He couldn’t cope with sympathy right now, not when Bertolt’s need was greater than his. 

A snide part of his mind mocked him for being so pathetic, Bertolt was potentially dying for fucks sake, and here he was blubbing over moving towns. But Jean let his legs carry him until they ached, and he wound up under a neon sign, blaring ‘TATTOO AND PIERCINGS’. 

He scarcely considered his actions before he walked in, deciding that he may as well do the most rebellious thing he could before being shipped off to live amongst strangers. The guy behind the desk looked up, bemused. “Hi, do you have an appointment?” He asked kindly.  
Jean imagined he looked a hot mess right now, eyes red and itching for the sheer amount of tears that had poured from them. “I.. No. But I think I know what I want done. Do you have a free slot?” The guy looked him up and down, evaluating him before nodding. “Sure. Why don’t you take a seat over there?” He gestured towards a collection of cushy chairs where Jean promptly parked his ass. 

He wasn’t lying, he did know what he wanted done. On his ribs, where it hurt the most, Jean wanted one of the owls that Armin always doodled on napkins in diners, with accents of the red from Mikasa’s scarf, and the teal of Eren’s eyes, although the bruising alone would remind him of Jaeger; he wanted it to have one of the intricate wings bound in a bandage, for Reiner and Bertolt and Annie and the recovery he hoped they would make. He wanted the shading to mimic the tribal scrawls that Ymir had tattooed on her ankle, and the feathers around it’s twisted ears to look like the peach fuzz which covered Connie’s head. He wanted the base colour to be the same shade as Sasha’s hair, and the whole thing to have the effortless elegance of Christa. More than anything he wanted it to have the same ochre eyes as Marco, so a part of him would always be near Jean’s heart.

So that’s what he drew, with a stubby pencil on a slightly battered scrap of paper in that cushy chair, until the receptionist wandered over and said that one of the artists had some free time. He showed the artist the paper, who looked it over before nodding. “Sure, I can do this. Where would you want it?”

When Jean pointed to the top of his ribs, he raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.  
Sitting in the chair, with the sharp scent of ink around him, Jean felt more at home than he had any one place in years. Music drifted through the shop, meandering guitar and lyrics.

_'Driving in your car, I never never want to go home. Because I haven't got one anymore.'_

For once Jean actually related to Morrissey. The Smiths distracted him a little but the pain, obviously, was unreal, but he stuck it out and only winced a little as the needle buzzed straight over the bones in his ribcage.

_'..And if a double-decker bus, crashes in to us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine.'_

An hour and a half later, he felt the cool relief of the artist drying off the ink before handing him the after-care kit. Glancing down, Jean felt a swell in his chest. Sure it was dumb and impulsive, but that owl perched on his torso felt right in the same way that Marco’s lips did against his and the slide of whisky did down his throat. 

He stood up and breathed sharply as the movement tugged on the tender skin, but took on determined step, then another to the front desk, handing over the forty dollars he owed them and leaving, feeling better and worse for his rash decision. Jean wandered around a little longer before finding a payphone and trying to figure out who to call. The natural choice was Marco, but the wounds were too raw for Jean to expose them to Marco so soon; because he would be moody and unpleasant and that would upset Marco, so he would have to explain his behavior and it would get worse all over again.

He needed someone who accept his dark mood and not question it, just leave him be to brood until he left again. Dialling Ymir’s number felt like the right thing to do, as she picked up on the third ring.  
“Yullo? Ymir speaking.”  
“Hey, Ymir? It’s Jean. I kind of.. Need a place to crash tonight.”  
“Huh, well I’m working tonight and then going to Chrissy’s, but I’ll leave a key out if you want? You don’t sound in the mood to be throwing any wild parties on my premises without me there.”  
“I, uh, nah. I’m downtown now.. But I’ll walk up soonish.”  
“You sure you don’t want a lift? I’ve got another hour until I have to get to work.”  
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”  
“Alrighty kiddo, stay safe. There’s liquor in the cabinet but if you puke, I won’t just make you clean it up; I’ll make you eat it. Capiche?”  
“Yup. Bye. Uh, thank you for this.”  
“No worries. Bye.”

Jean always underestimated Ymir’s ability to be awesome, he thought as he began the long trudge back to the suburbs. She was detached enough to be good in a crisis, but gave good advice when it was necessary or she had got a few drinks down her. He arrived at her condo to an empty drive, so fished under the mat for a few seconds before finding the key. 

He made his way upstairs slowly, to avoid aggravating the skin around the fresh tattoo, before taking a shower. Jean coated the tattoo in the ointment the artist had given him first as per instructed, then indulging himself in some coconut shower cream and shampoo that looked way too girly to belong to rough-tough Ymir. 

Afterwards he towelled himself off and went to the spare bedroom, dressing the tattoo with the bandages he could find. It was only six in the evening, but Jean felt exhausted and slumped into bed, only to find his mind restless and limbs spasming with anxiety. Following Ymir’s advice he went to the cupboard in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of spiced rum.

He took three pulls straight from the bottle before scavenging around for a glass and knocking back two measures of the acrid liquid straight off the bat. After that his mind felt muggy enough to let him drift off to sleep upstairs, his dreams full of strangers with pursed lips and owls that spoke with Marco’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, inspiration for Jean's tattoo came vaguely from this: http://www.gettattoed.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/gloom-owl-tattoo-design.jpg


	27. Love Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't updated in approximately two billion years and for that I apologise, hope you like this chapter c:

EREN’S POV

Nestled in sheets, with his arms wrapped around Levi’s slumbering form and a soft mattress beneath him, Eren could almost forget how awful the last four days had been. Last night they had worked their usual shift together in The Pirripin, only pausing from tossing drinks out left, right, and to the off-kilter to briefly talk to Connie, Sasha and Annie who came by to share a drink and give them an update.

Reiner had officially running for five days on five hours of sleep, and there was no change in Bertolt’s condition. His parents were there now with Reiner, who staunchly refused to leave his bedside unless it was to get a fresh change of clothes from Annie or shower in the grimy hospital washroom. 

Eren listened to the gentle inhale and exhale sounds that Levi made as he slept, letting it soothe his mind and he shuffled closer, letting his chest lie flush with Levi’s pale back. He took the time to properly admire the myriad of inky drawings which spiralled over his boyfriend’s shoulder blades and down over his spine. 

There was a bold crest on his right shoulder blade, a navy blue and white pattern interlinked which made up a pair of wings. Spooling off that was an intricate knot of lines, which became more legible as he traced them down with his eyes, ending in an elaborate drawing of an old-fashioned key. 

Eren ached to follow the dark strips of ink with his fingertips, but he would feel like an absolute cock if he woke Levi up when he was sleeping so peacefully. He couldn’t count the number of times he had fallen asleep whilst Levi remained wakeful; the dark bags under Levi’s eyes were not a natural occurrence.

So instead he continued to observe the tattoos latticing alabaster skin. On the opposite shoulder to the crest, there was a monochrome illustration of a woman in profile, with a tiara framing Cinderella-esque hair. It was subtle but enthralling, the slightly less cool and heteronormative part of Eren’s brain thought that was a good representation of Levi himself. 

He felt the slight frame stiffen a little in his arms before he heard icy drawl he had come to tolerate so much.   
“Are you quite finished ogling my tattoos, you shit-brained little twerp?”   
The insult was muffled by sleep and half a pillow, so it lacked bite and Eren actually had the balls to chuckle before pressing a kiss to the back of Levi’s neck and reply.

“Yup. They’re gorgeous-”  
“If you say ‘like you’, I swear to Christ Eren, I will kick you in the throat. I feel like trash.”  
Again, the insult was ruined by Levi rolling over and nuzzling his face into the crook of Eren’s neck. He made a sympathetic noise and tenderly ran his fingers through Levi’s cropped hair. “Are you feeling okay? And I’m gonna say like you anyways, I doubt your foot can reach my neck from all the way down there.”

And just like that, the moment was simultaneously ruined and made perfect. Eren burst out laughing as Levi swung his foot to connect with his shin before jamming his fingers into Eren’s armpit and making him squirm.

“OH FUCK, Levi fucking hell have mercy, MERCY!” Eren was practically screaming before Levi decided to leave him be with the tickling, taking the covers with him too because he’s a petty little bitch like that sometimes.

“I can’t believe you would exploit my weakness like that, you, you harlot.” Eren wheezed, clutching at his ribs to ensure none of them had be irrevocably damaged by the violent hate-crime he had just undergone. 

Levi just grinned at his discomfort and pecked him on the end of his nose. “That will teach you to make jokes at a man because of his stature. Be an darling and put some coffee on? If I don’t have a shower I think I’ll spontaneously combust into a violent fireball of disgust at my standard of hygiene right now.”

Eren rolled his eyes at his melodrama, Levi had a shower the previous day at his house whilst Mikasa, Annie and himself gave making hash brownies their first shot. Suffice to say, they were shit. Annie said they would learn from their failure though, and valiantly vowed try again soon. 

Mikasa said they would be better if Eren wasn’t such a cheap shit who had opted to buy skunk instead of their usual strain of Columbian. Eren said that it wasn’t his fault that they were undeserving of their title of ‘homemakers’; neither of the girls could cook for shit.

Levi had simply come downstairs with damp hair and another combination of Eren’s clothes on and flipped his shit a full 360 degrees over the state of the kitchen before tidying up every square inch of it. 

Eren giggled quietly at the memory of Levi’s stricken face as he glanced around the warzone that had once been the Jaeger family kitchen.   
“Are you going to sit there giggling like a fucking mental patient all day?” Levi asked through the open door.  
Eren blushed at being caught in his thoughts. “Nah, sorry I’ll go make that coffee.”

Levi’s eyes flashed with a mischievous light, which Eren had come to learn either meant he was about to get laid, get into trouble, or get dared to kiss Jean again like he had at Annie’s. He gave an involuntary full-body shudder at the memory before snapping back to reality.  
“I changed my mind, forget the coffee.” Levi said before heading off into the bathroom.

Eren sat there listlessly for a few moments, before Levi called out from over the sound of running water. “So? Are you gonna join me or what. numbnuts?”  
Eren swore he got whiplash from the sheer speed at which he got into the bathroom from Levi’s bed. 

Levi just chuckled at his enthusiasm, sidling over underneath the warm spray of water to allow them to both fit in the cubicle. Twenty minutes later they were in the kitchen, skin damp and hard-ons gradually fading after being spent over Levi’s shower door and Eren’s mouth, respectively. 

Eren was enjoying the combination of sunlight streaming into the room and warming his back, the post-orgasm euphoria, and his almost scandalously attractive boyfriend making him a morning coffee.

He sat on the counter accepted the mug gratefully and sipped at it before remembering something.   
“Shit, Lee what’s the date today?”  
“I’ll tell you when you stop trying to abbreviate my name, you can’t doubly-abbreviate something, it’s a moral outrage.” he replied, rolling his eyes.  
“Alright then, Lance Rivalle-”  
Levi hissed at the use of his actual name. He had stubbornly refused to tell Eren what it was, claiming it was ‘hideously gay’ and ‘as difficult to shake as herpes, but even more unsightly’, until Eren had coaxed it out of him with a combination of white wine and threatening to just ask Erwin, who would have it on staff records at the bar. 

“It’s the 21st, you ass.” Levi said, flipping him off before sauntering off to get dressed properly beyond a long t-shirt which Eren was pretty sure belonged to him anyway.  
It was kind of staggering to Eren really, he had only met Levi a matter of weeks ago, but already he had seeped into the very pores of Eren’s life, and Eren his. 

They spend almost all their time together, working, talking, drinking with their chaotic mutual friends or having lazy days inside, watching movies on Eren’s lame VCR or listening to Levi play on his piano. This, along with the rest of the long break had made school totally escape his mind. The semester started on the 3rd of September, less than two weeks away.

This made Eren nervous, not least because he fucking hated school, but also because of what it would mean for him and Levi. At the moment, Levi treated him as his equal but would he once Eren would have to start skipping shifts in favour of homework? He ignored it most of the time, but now the age gap between him and his boyfriend yawned open before him like an abyss. Six years was a long time, and Eren feared that the unfortunate reality-check from the glorious limbo he existed in between adult life and having almost no responsibilities would remind Levi of that, that Eren was essentially, a kid. 

He was silently absorbed in thought until Levi re-entered the room, in some obscenely tight jeans and a Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt, who he was obsessed with, but Eren didn’t really ‘get’ quite as much.   
“Hey, what’s up?” Levi asked, his voice a little more gentle than usual.  
“I go back to school Wednesday after next.” Eren replied in a small, sad voice. He was nervous down to his core at what the consequences of those words would be; Levi wanted a proper, normal, grown-up boyfriend, not some dorky almost-seventeen year old kid who couldn’t go out on weeknights after the 3rd.

“Sucks to be you, nerd.” The words were light-hearted, teasing as Levi slotted himself between Eren’s thighs and leant his head against Eren’s chest. He almost started at how callous his response was.  
“So that doesn’t.. Bother you?” He spoke tentatively, torn between wanting and not wanting to evoke a reaction. On the one hand, he was desperate for Levi to not give a shit about his age, but he if that wasn’t the case he wanted to hear it now. 

Eren couldn’t deny how attached he had become to the shorter man, and he knew that if it persisted he would eventually fall for Levi, and he would fall hard. His feelings were already blossoming between the blurred lines of ‘like’ and ‘love’, and Eren would prefer not to fall and hit the ground hard than never take that dive at all, because he knew he would do it like he did everything; with reckless abandon and no contingency plan in mind.

He had enough heartbreak in his short life already, despite that he knew his mother would loathe for him to dwell on her death. Kalura was a beautiful woman in life, vibrant and cheerful and never afraid to live for the moment, and Eren knew she would want him to follow her example, but it was difficult sometimes. Less so now that he and Mikasa were building their own family; a ragtag affair of siblings and squabbles and weird incest, but a family nonetheless. 

“Eren. Why would it bother me? You’re sixteen, not an infant. And I see the age gap, I really do, but to be honest I remember being your age and nothing much about me has changed since then, besides that I’m no longer bleach-blonde or homeless.”

Levi’s words passed over him in a bizarre wash which took a minute for him to internally decode.   
“So.. I.. You went through a blond phase?”  
Levi rolled his eyes and whapped him upside the head gently with his palm.   
“Oh yeah, way to focus on the relevant shit going on there Eren. But yes, I was blonde for a while and no I am not freaked out that you’re going back to school.”

Eren sighed contentedly into Levi’s hair before kissing the tip of his ear. “Thank shit for that. I was having a short panic that you’d find it really weird and we wouldn’t see each other anymore and my life would suck.”  
He hadn’t meant to show his hand quite so hard, but before he could backpedal over his words, Levi was snorting with laughter.  
“Oh ocean-eyes, to define is to limit.”

Now it was Eren’s turn to snort a little derisively. “Ocean-eyes?”  
“Yeah, because you’re all-” Levi leaned back in Eren’s grasp to gesticulate at his face “-turquoise and shit y’know? I was thinking it the entire time we were Annie’s, you are nothing short of beautiful Eren.”

Eren blushed for the second time at Levi’s hand this morning, pulling him into a chaste little kiss. “..Was that Dickens you just quoted?” Eren asked as their mouths separated.  
“Wilde, you ignoramus.” Levi snapped as he kissed Eren again, this time with more ferocity. 

As their tongues slid and teeth clacked together as their mouths fought for dominance, Eren could already feel gravity tugging at his feet.


	28. Paradise City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, things have been painfully hectic recently so I haven't had much (or in fact any) time to write. But not to worry, here is the latest chapter! Hope you enjoy it. x

CONNIE’S POV

Connie had never been one for rational or careful decision making, so when Sasha plopped onto his bed after finishing her first shift of work at the record shop in the mall and demanded they do something spontaneous to shake her feeling of corporate absorption he had cracked up and agreed.

Not before reminding her that the record shop was privately owned however, and then asking how the fuck she had got a key for his apartment. She rolled onto her front and shrugged.

“Your brother gave it to me like two days ago after we got back from the bar, you were making me mac and cheese and he said that he was counting on me to look after you and not let you steal his weed anymore-”

Connie sat up abruptly. “That dirty liar! I pay for almost all of my gear, he’s the little sleaze who steals in this household.”  
Sasha patted his leg soothingly, “of course Cons, but yeah that’s the grand tale of how I got a key to your apartment, sorry I forgot to mention it sooner, what with me being an employed and active member of society..”

Connie snorted at her bragging and flicked her in the temple. It wasn’t an unkind gesture, just one of loving familiarity. Nothing much had changed in the short time that had been together, they still laughed and joked around the same only now instead of wanting to, he could just simply lean across whatever gap came between them and kiss her, feeling her stifled giggles sweet against his mouth.

He was sat in his bed when she entered and unceremoniously slumped, and now the comic he was reading sat propped open on his bare stomach. The stereo was still gently playing Guns N’ Roses as he read the new installment in the latest Daredevil saga which she had lent him a few days before, he was now in the process of re-reading it and thoroughly engrossed. Sasha herself was now lying on her front, arms supporting her chin, close enough so that she could rest her head on his ankle. 

Connie couldn’t suppress the warm clutch in his chest at how beautiful she looked just then, loose chestnut hair spooled about her shoulders and the tank top she wore for work showing off her slightly tanned collarbones and the soft skin there, dotted with the occasional freckle. He couldn’t help but feel a tad self-conscious, he was clothed only in boxers and the twin devils of laziness and distraction in the form of comics had meant he hadn’t bothered taking a shower since Sunday morning, it now being late Monday.

Sasha didn’t seem to care though, and poked him in the thigh to rouse some of his attention. “Well? C’mon assbutt, what do you want to do?”  
Connie stroked his chin in a moment of mock-pensiveness before breaking into a grin. “I’ve got the perfect thing.”  
“Hm? Well, let’s hear it?”   
Connie pitched himself forward to run his hand through her hair as he spoke.  
“So we can grab a shit-load of food, a shit-load of pot, and go out for a romantic picnic. How about that?” 

Sasha grinned and grabbed his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before tangling their fingers together. “Ugh, yes that does sound perfect. Connie you truly are the one for me, you know that?” 

Connie broke into a shit-eating little grin at her words and pulled her upwards by their linked hands to press a kiss against the tip of her nose. “You get the food, I’ll get the weed and meet back here in five?”

Sasha nodded excitedly and they shared a quick high-five before she disappeared off to the kitchen. He sat there for a moment, boneless with happiness. None of the mental planning or unconscious fantasies had proved anything close to how awesome it was to have Sasha as his girlfriend. 

He clambered up and checked under his bed, pulling out the battered shoe-box. After ensuring there was at least an eighth of an ounce in there, he stuck on some jeans and a slightly faded Def Leppard shirt which was originally either his brother’s or Jean’s but fuck ‘em, finders keepers right? Then he scooped up the little baggy and stuck it into his back pocket, along with some rolling papers and a small strip of cardboard to make a roach out of before heading out to the kitchen. 

Sasha had made quick work of making some sandwiches and sticking some of the last juice boxes in the packet in an old backpack of Connie’s. She gave him a thumbs up and set about rooting around for some candy, and he was about to go and help when the phone rang. 

He sauntered over and picked it up, trying his best to ignore Sasha’s attempts to make him laugh down the receiver.   
“Yo, Springer residence.”  
“Hey Connie, it’s Mikasa.”  
“Heyy ‘Kasa what’s up?”

“Oooh is it Mikasa?” Sasha butted in, “tell her I say hi!”

“Nothing much Connie, um, wondering if you and Sasha want to come over tomorrow? Like just to hang out and maybe make some actually decent hash brownies? Everyone’s been a little distant these last few days what with Bertolt’s.. Situation, and yeah we’re all gonna be there-”  
“It’s okay Mikasa.” Connie interrupted her, if only to stop her babbling. Mikasa was an incredibly strong woman, inside and out but she sometimes struggled a little socially. But hey, Connie could relate. “We’ll be there. Also, Sasha says hi.”  
“You will? Awesome, hi back to Sasha. Um, yeah Annie was in the hospital today. There’s still now much change with Bertolt, or Reiner for that matter.”  
Connie cringed a little, worry for his friends making his insides feel too big for it’s outsides.  
“Alright thanks for letting me know, tomorrow when?”  
“About five, oh hold on, Eren and his pet idiot are home.” He heard some hot denial of that from the other end and decided not to intrude on the domestic conflict waiting to happen. “Well, I’ll see you at my house.”  
“Actually shouldn’t you say that Tu casa es... Mi-casa?”

Connie laughed hysterically even as she put the phone down, after snorting derisively. Sasha chuckled for a bit before grabbing the backpack and grabbing his arm.   
“Come on my little loser.” She deadpanned before smiling again and planting a kiss on his head.

He acquiesced and they walked towards the door hand in hand.   
“God I cannot fucking deal with how short I feel next to you.” Connie muttered as they began the walk to the park, rubbing his hand on his head where she had kissed it before.

Sasha snorted with laughter. “It’s only like ten centimetres Connie, you’ll grow and probably fill out at some point and then I can whinge about being made to feel short.” As she spoke she pulled him into a noogie, never dropping pace. He laughed and swatted at her until she broke her hold and he could loop and arm around her waist as they walked. 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they walked, casting long shadows and dramatic silhouettes as they found a decent spot on the grass, near a beat-up playground. 

“Aw fuck, we forgot to bring a rug or any shit like that..” Connie realised, cringing at his rookie mistake.   
“Oh who cares, come on I’m hungry.” Sasha retorted grabbing his arm and dragging him down to sit with her. They ate a sandwich each, and as Sasha began her second Connie began rolling their first joint of the evening. 

And there they sat, hands and legs entwined, watching the sunset illuminate the sky to a fierce amber; passing a joint back and forth, watching the smoke wreath between them. By the time the final embers extinguished themselves on the cardboard roach, Sasha was sitting cross-legged with her arms splayed out against the grass behind her and Connie’s head in her lap. She sighed gently.

“Thank you for this,” she said, smiling gently and moving one of her hands to caress his cheek. Connie just smiled up at her and took her hand in his, kissing her palm as she had done to his earlier. “S’okay. It’s not like I would rather be with anyone else, y’know, but you.”  
Connie’s heart ached, because he wasn’t generally a guy who was big on feelings or romantic statements, but he didn’t even need to try and search for flattering words with Sasha; it all tumbled out as honest as it was embarrassing. He couldn’t help the gentle tenderness that overtook his thumb and it traced soothing circles into the back of her hand. 

Sasha sat up and made a beeline to kiss him, but was distracted by something in the distance. “Oh ew, PDA much?”  
Connie hitched himself upwards and followed where she was looking.  
Someone was sat on the swings, ramshackled structure that it was, and were being thoroughly made out with by the individual kneeling between their legs, the shallow leverage of the seat enough that they were perfect height for each other’s mouths. 

“Gross.. Who is that?” Connie asked, squirming a little.   
Connie was not a prude by any means, but from two hundred metres he could see how the person on the seat had their legs around the torso of whoever was on the floor and it was looking more than a little heated. Connie was not going to have his exquisite romantic picnic with Sasha spoiled by some horny kids who couldn’t keep it in their pants long enough to get home. 

Sasha squinted. “Oh I don’t believe it.”


	29. The River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand apologies for the ridiculously long wait, the exam season has been dark and full of terrors but I am mostly finished now and will properly get on with this series :) profuse thanks to everyone who reads this fic, 10,000+ views is more than I had ever hoped for and all of your comments and kudos are the best motivation ever, plus check out this fucking sweet-ass art by Tumblr user bodtsquads http://hanjis.co.vu/post/74375555563/some-of-the-snk-gang-from-summer-1982   
> Tears were almost shed, THE FIC HAS FANART GUYS, WE'VE MADE IT
> 
> After the 3 week hiatus, I hope you enjoy this

REINER’S POV

After six days in the hospital, Reiner wasn’t sure he knew many things anymore. He didn’t know whether the sun was up or down, or when the last time he had slept was. He didn’t know how his friends were getting on, he didn’t know how his father and his night-shifts were going. It all kind of paled in comparison though, when he dwelled on the fact that he didn’t know whether Bertolt would live or die, 

It all seemed so surreal; a bizarre dream in which he had to come to terms with the impossible, that he might never speak to Bertolt again, or watch him fidget, or admire the way his lanky shoulders opened out and his posture because less stooped when he laughed. 

It weighed on Reiner, sitting with only the constant company of the heart monitor beeping a steady ostinato, thinking of all the things that could have been. They had only been together for a matter of days before the accident, but that handful of days had been some of the best of Reiner’s life. If things went worst-case scenario, they would never have their first anything beyond kissing. Right now Reiner would do anything for him and Bertolt to have their first fight, because an angry Bertolt is a live one, eyes blazing and limbs steady to an unnatural degree- hands still for once. 

Bertolt’s parents came in frequently, for updates and to simply sit with him, as did Annie. Annie was Reiner’s saving grace half the time, swooping in when needed to throw a backpack of fresh clothes and a comic book or three at him. Others had been in too, Connie and Sasha had come by a matter of days ago, Mikasa, Armin, Eren and Levi had also visited recently, not that Reiner could put a pin in when exactly.

Reiner half-heartedly checked his watch, time redundant in the fluorescent miasma of a hospital. The hands lazily indicated it was 3:23am. Reiner sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heel of a clammy palm. The last time a nurse had come by was about midnight, checking Bertolt’s IVs and gently telling Reiner not to expect any miracles.

Rummaging beneath the chair which Reiner had been calling home for the past one hundred and forty four hours, his hand found one of the care packages Annie had left for him. Standing and stretching, his bones making satisfying popping sounds as he did so, Reiner left room 213 and made his way to the locker room usually reserved for residents and interns on call, but one of the doctors had taken pity on him and given him a free pass to use their showers. 

He shuffled into a cubicle before stripping off his clothes, simple jeans and a t-shirt with boxers beneath, looping them over the cubicle door as the shower started hissing as water began to stream out. The water pressure left a lot to be desired, but Reiner felt unbelievably grotty and any kind of running water was like the touch of Christ to him right now. 

As Reiner relaxed into the lukewarm spray, he felt a jolt of anxiety that would wrack through him whenever he was away from Bertolt. What if he woke up, and no-one was there? He would think that there was nobody who cared, and Reiner would feel like shit. No actually, worse than shit. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than waking up in an empty hospital room. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, what if Reiner wasn’t there when Bertolt finally slipped away? What if when Bertolt gave up and let the other side take him, Reiner wasn’t there and he came back to Bertolt he was stiff and pale and dead? He stopped his lounging and quickly scrubbed himself with the cheap soap provided. It was rough and smelled like cheap carnations, but Reiner had survived infinitely worse and wasted no time in rinsing himself off and stumbling out to find a towel.

Luckily there was a rack filled with them right opposite to his cubicle, and he wasted no time drying himself off. Some of the other cubicles were now occupied, the hiss of water streaming from chrome showerheads howling in tandem, impossibly loud to Reiner’s fragile senses. He pulled the articles of clothing Annie had packed for him out of his backpack, sliding on the boxers then jeans immediately.

Rifling around for whatever shirt his best friend had stowed inside for him, a gentle humming voice began to emanate from the shower cubicle at the end of the row. Reiner paid it no mind, as his hand finally snagged the fabric of a shirt. He said a silent prayer to Annie and her helpfulness in the face of a disaster, and hoped that she was coping alright. He wanted her to be happy, and didn’t doubt that Mikasa was taking proper care of her. 

As her best friend joint with Bertolt, Annie let on a lot more to him than she did to almost anyone else, and she had confided in him in her own quiet way that she did sometimes need a hand to hold and someone to share her weed with, and that she’d like it to be Mikasa. In Annie’s alien language that only her and the incredibly emotionally constipated spoke, that was a rough translation to ‘I think I’d like to date her forever’.

Reiner thought they complimented each other well, both coming across as serious and stoic, but underneath it all they were intensely caring people, and passionate about protecting their families- the blood related kind or otherwise. Tugging on the shirt, it fluttered free from the backpack. It was forest-green and the fabric felt well worn. Reiner’s throat constricted, and the anfractuous steam wandering about the room became searingly hot and thick enough to clog Reiner’s nose and make his eyes sting.

He raised the shirt to his nose and took a cautious breath. It smelt of citrus and the sea breeze and cheap deodorant. It smelt of Bertolt, or at least how he had before the hospital had stripped him down to a broken body in a room which made his skin look impossibly pale and reeked of only disinfectant, with no hints of oranges or calone lingering.

Reiner’s hands shook a little and his eyes began to sting with gusto, he had thought himself to be beyond crying by now, all his sobbing and tears poured into his first night here, clutching Bertolt’s too-cold hands and resting his head against the hard mattress that Bertolt was splayed across, chest heaving and words tumbling out with no sense or order, just haphazard phrases like ‘please’ and ‘Bertolt’ and ‘don’t leave me like this’.

He twisted the shirt to look at the decal on the front. Reiner knew it was there because he had pressed it on himself and given it to Bertolt for his fifteenth birthday, along with some cake that he and Annie had worked furiously on to no avail and their first taste of spirits. It was a cheesy little image, a cartoon turtle smiling, a teasing memento to Reiner’s favourite nickname for Bertl. He just stared at it now, their naivety so beautiful in retrospect. 

As he stood, lost and gazing into the past, the strains of melody from the cubicle had become words which Reiner half-recognized from his father’s vinyl collection, albums that he had played for days upon end when Reiner’s mother had left, too young for him to remember much of her besides the music that had been played in her absence.

_‘..Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse , is a dream a lie if it don't come true or is it something worse?’_

Reiner felt his lower lip tremble treacherously before shaking his head furiously and pulling the t-shirt on, seizing the clothes he had shucked before his shower and throwing them into the now vacant backpack. He fled the room as fast as he could, the lyrics absorbed by the smog of the locker room echoing around his head in a rush.

_'That sends me down to the river, though I know the river is dry, that sends me down to the river tonight'_

The halls feel longer than they did, time warping and bending around his feet, mocking him in a constant spiral of steps which go nowhere

_'Down to the river my baby and I, oh down to the river we ride'_

Muted steps rang behind him, a gurney loaded with medical equipment he couldn’t name. “Excuse me sir, we need this hallway clear!”   
A voice sliced the tethers between him and his thoughts, as he stepped aside to let the gurney pass, watching a nurse jog past in pursuit, barking directions down a walkie-talkie. “Room 213 yes, we’re going to need a defibrillator there stat.”

The song began spiralling around his head again

_'My baby and I, down to the river we ride'_

And Reiner broke into a sprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized how junked-up my timeline has become, with all the non-sequential chapters. Just to make it a little clearer, the actual chronological order of the last few chapters is 25-28-26-27-29, d'you think I should rearrange them into chronological order or leave them as they are? It is in your hands as the readers y'all


	30. Wanted Dead Or Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this chapter is long and tedious and I fucking hate it, and it has literally taken me forever to write; but I was desperate to wind up this tendril of storyline so we can get cracking on some other ideas I have for this fic.  
> Friendly reminder that there is now a playlist for this fic here http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Summer+1982/98427061  
> and as always, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh and PS for any of your Game of Thrones fans who may be reading, I’ve started a new project of AO3, it’s a skateboarding!AU and it’s gonna be radical. First chapter is here for your perusing: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1887453/chapters/4066845

JEAN’S POV

Waking up amongst unfamiliar sheets was always a jarring sensation for Jean, the starchy duvet and dappled sunlight his eyes fluttered open to a far cry from how he usually woke up as the rising sun began to obnoxiously filter through the slats in his blinds, his body swaddled in his comforter that smelt of cigarettes and that time Connie had spilt bong water over it; and being a teenage boy he’d never bothered to wash the damned thing no matter how much he always swore to Jean he would.

More often than not nowadays the odors of ash and pot were masked by milder tones of lavender and freckled skin, Marco’s body a welcome substitute for a shitty comforter that had lived a long life of suffering at his careless hands. Jean briefly forgot about his tattoo as he stretched, writhing around and arching his back for a moment before the motion tugged on the skin around his ribs and he hissed in pain. 

Flopping onto a more comfortable position on his side, Jean could smell not just detergent, but also bacon cooking. Again, he was a teenage boy for chrissakes, so of course he got up to see when in the direct future he could go about ingesting his weight in said beautiful meat. Sloping into the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers, he could see Christa gently prodding at a pan of bacon whilst Ymir fiddled around making coffee.

“Ah, he lives!” she called to Jean with relish.  
Christa, as always, was kinder. “Good morning Jeanie, did you sleep okay?”  
“Yeah I did thanks,” he replied, ducking his head a little. Christa was practically unreasonable in her angelic qualities, and it made Jean feel like satan incarnate even if he had done nothing wrong. Besides underage drinking. And drugs. Oh and all the sodomy.

“Kirstein you would do well to acknowledge me, considering I have a mug of coffee here with your metaphorical name on it.” Ymir said snidely, and Jean rolled his eyes before mockingly lavishing her with attention. “Oh Ymir, you cruel goddess you. I implore you not to unleash a morning of terror upon me.”

Ymir just rolled her eyes in return and slid a mug across the countertop. Jean took a sip before calculating any of the risks involved, and almost gagged on the boiling concoction. “Jesus ‘Mir, does this have alcohol in it?” Jean usually didn’t cower in the face of an Irished-up coffee, but this shit was strong and had taken him by surprise. 

Ymir snorted at him. “Only a splash, You drank a fair amount last night, and probably for all the last nights stretching back to April. I’m helping you out here Jean; if you stop drinking all at once, the cumulative hangover might literally kill you.”

Jean answered her twisted version of ‘helping him out’ by sticking out his tongue and taking another more cautious sip. It actually wasn’t as acrid as he had originally thought, and after a few more mouthfuls of the bitter liquid some of the tension he hadn’t even realised he was carrying in his shoulders began to dissipate. He watched as Christa lovably trundled around the kitchen and Ymir cooed over her and helped wherever her lack of ability with anything culinary couldn’t hold her back.

Jean wondered if he could ever have this with Marco, this easy domesticity where they would simply just exist in the same space and never get tired of it. He imagined Marco in his kitchen, puttering about with one of Jean’s t-shirts on and a mug of coffee in his hand, making toast and absentmindedly reading the paper. He felt like his heart was in a vice. He had come too far and gained too much to allow that tantalizing future to be snatched away from him, and in his mind as he accepted a plateful of bacon and sat at the table he repeated the simple phrase of ‘not going anywhere’ like a mantra, because he wasn’t.

Now he was past the dramatics of the last two days, it was time for him to think seriously and logically about how he would stay in Stohess for another year, so he could at least finish high school in the company of the people he loved. Jean needed a man with a plan, so after scarfing down his plate of food he excused himself to use the phone. Ymir had a grubby leather-bound notebook beside the landline receiver which he flicked through quickly until finding who he needed.

“Hello, Adam Arlert speaking, who is this please?”  
“Um,” Jean faltered for a moment, “Jean. Kirstein. Is Armin there?”  
“Ah hello Mr Kirstein, yes Armin’s just upstairs. Just a moment.”  
He sat in silence to the soundtrack of awkward shuffling until Armin’s voice echoed down the line. “Jean?”  
“Armin! Hey man, what’s up?”  
“Not much, just got back from seeing Erw- Eren. What’s up with you?”  
“Ah, er something I need to talk to you about actually?”  
Armin’s voice lilted with interested “Yeah? You want to stop by and have a chat?”  
Jean’s veins rushed with relief, thanking the lord above for Armin Arlert and his creepy perceptive superpowers. “Yes! Uh, sure, when’s good by you?”  
“Whenever you can get here,” he replied, a note of mirth worming it’s way into his tone.  
“Okay. Thanks. See you in a bit.”  
“Goodbye Jean.” Armin hung up without pretense and Jean put the phone down, heart buoyant with hope.

He wheedled a lift out of Ymir, absently tapping his hand against the dashboard to a Skid Row song he didn’t really know as they wended their way out of downtown.  
“So, you’re what, seventeen now?” Ymir asked absently as they passed a myriad of shitty parking complexes and ugly offices. Jean nodded. “Yeah, eighteen in November though.” She hummed thoughtfully.  
“I’ve been thinking I might buy the joint where I work from the owner, considering he’s an old fart and plans to retire and abscond to Europe in three months time.”

Jean remembered that Ymir worked as a tattoo artist in a semi-sleazy place down town, it looked like shit from outside, but inside there was a nice atmosphere of mean-looking people smiling and no-one giving a shit how old you were.

“Aww no way, Zackley’s leaving? That guy gave me my first ear piercing after I lost a bet with Connie in eighth grade..” Jean reminisced, he was a gruff old man but passionate about what he did and he had loved that shop like it was his own baby.  
Ymir laughed at the memory, “oh yeah, that was the year before you dweebs started high school in Trost..”

Jean absently remembered his first year as an awkward freshman, wandering around alone; Sasha and Connie still trapped in the purgatory of middle school. He had spent most of his time in the art department then, dicking around with pastels and discovering the glories of Pink Floyd. He had met Ymir after she complimented a particularly angsty-looking charcoal piece of his, before plonking herself down next to him and telling him about this band called Sex Pistols. Over that year the molasses of their group of friends had began to wreathe together, Reiner and Annie were already in his year and firm friends having gone to middle school together. He and Reiner had bonded over field hockey and their mutual love of Pac-Man sometime in the spring term, and once Summer rolled around they spent at least one day a week together in the park practicing their passes. The next year almost everyone else in their town started their freshman year and the rest was history.

 

“...but anyway, you’ve been unofficially stabbing holes in our friends for years and I was thinking that maybe you’d like a senior-year job training to be our new piercing artist?”  
Jean grinned so hard he felt like his some kind of tendon in his face might snap. “Oh fuck yeah, Ymir that would be awesome!” Not only would he be able to work for one of his friends, but his mind flashed forward to possibilities of him getting his own place to stay on his probably meagre salary, being able to live in Stohess independently from his domineering parents. 

Ymir grinned back at him. “Yeah I know right? Like I figure you’ve already done Armin and Sasha’s ears about a million times, Annie’s nose, your own damn mouth twice, and with no fuck-ups so far so you seem like my safest bet for a new employee.”  
“Thank you so so much Ymir.” Jean practically gushed as they pulled up outside the Arlert household. “I’ll see you in a bit, thanks again for letting me crash over.” 

Ymir made a ‘think nothing of it’ gesture with her hand. “No worries Jeanie-boo, I’ll let you know when that job’s available. Look after yourself, pal.”  
She sped off without another word, or even letting Jean shut the passenger door correctly, but then again he had seen her do a lot of dumb shit in the past and she’d never suffered for it yet.

The path up to Armin’s house was lovingly tended, dainty white flowers adorning flowerbeds which bordered onto the quaint cobbled path. Jean trudged along to the front door, feeling exceptionally lumbering and ugly amongst all the delicate beauty surrounding him. He knocked once, feeling uncharacteristically shy, it was fairly presumptuous after all, for him to wander to Armin’s front door in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday and beg him to help put his life back together. 

Armin opened the door, only a moment or two after Jean’s uncourtly knocking. He was wearing an oversized cable-knit which Jean didn’t recognise which made his figure look even more slender and feminine than usual, his hair was pulled backwards into a slightly messy bun which accentuated his fragile, porcelain features and uncannily large periwinkle blue eyes. He was wearing jeans which appeared more like tights in their durability and his ears were still pierced in both lobes after Jean had coerced him into being his latest test subject a month ago. 

“Heya Jean. Come on in.” Armin nudged the door open properly and retreated indoors, leaving Jean with no choice but to follow him.  
“Hi Armin.” He began, wending his way through the old house, cluttered with leather-bound tomes of books and bric-a-brac which would probably fetch thousands in the right auction house. “So, um I need your help,” he continued as they waded up the stairs, to a room which appeared to in fact be a renovated cupboard from the exterior. 

Armin threw himself down on an office chair and gestured for Jean to sit on the bed which Jean assumed belonged to Armin. The room itself reeked of his personal touch, like the rest of the house there were books littering everywhere he cast his eyes, but there was also a Depeche Mode poster pasted across one of the walls and some discarded eyeliner pencils rattling around underfoot. 

“So, what’s the matter dude?” Armin asked, tilting his head inquisitively.  
“Well, it’s kind of a long story but.. My parents want to move away. Up North, to Nedlay for their work.” Armin’s eyes widened.  
“You’re moving away? Oh shit that’s huge..” He breathed.  
“Not if I, and by extension then you can help it.” Jean said insistently. “I’m not moving. If I can find any possible way for me to stay in Stohess, I’m taking it.”  
Armin nodded slowly. “Okay, so what you need is.. A plan?”  
Jean bobbed his head violently. “Yeah, a plan.”

An half an hour later, Jean’s head ached from all of the questions Armin had thrown at him vis-a-vis about a million fiscal terms that he didn’t understand before deeming him to be unable to afford his own place. Once Armin realised he was fighting a losing battle, he turned fire elsewhere. “Well if you can’t live alone, what if you moved in with one of us guys? Like obviously we don’t have much space here, but the Jaeger’s-”

“No, no, noooooooo.” Jean cut him off before he could stumble any further into that abyss. “Me and Eren can just about spend an evening together now, if we had to try and live together I guarantee there would be bloodshed by dawn.”  
Armin sighed, “point taken.. How about if you shacked up with Connie? From what he’s told me his brother’s mostly stuck in Trost half the time at work or with his girlfriend so there’s essentially a free room up for grabs there.”

Jean gasped. “Of course. Connie. That would literally be perfect, thank you Armin thank you so much, you are the best. You are amigo numero uno Armin Arlert.”  
Armin giggled at the praise, “well, or I guess the obvious choice would be Marco? Seeing as you too are practically married now.”  
Jean suddenly felt very hot then very cold, and his voice cracked just enough that he knew Armin would notice when he spoke. “I.. Haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”

Armin’s lips pursed in a way that reminded Jean chillingly of his mother. “Oh, Jean.” He murmured softly, “you have to tell him, sooner rather than later. Don’t say after all of those grand gestures you’re having second thoughts about him.”  
Jean’s innards turned to frost then fire again. “No no no, I’m not Armin, I know it’s weird and it’s hard to explain,” he babbled. “but Marco.. Marco’s like starlight, man. He’s like starlight and sunrise and songs played with a capo on the fourth fret, and it’s so hard to articulate, but I love him like I love the sun and the sea and the smell of ink and-”

He could feel a tear beginning to wend it’s way from his eye down to the stubble which lightly dusted his cheeks after three days of absence from anywhere with a razor which didn’t have a chance of being used by Ymir. Armin hugged him, muttering comforting nothings which made his throat seal up somewhere just above his voice box and the waterworks begin for real. 

Armin being a god-like deity of patience and kindness let him cry on his cardigan for a little while, before Jean pulled himself together. “Jean, it’s obvious you care about him so much. So what you’re going to do is go home, shower, shave for Christ’s sake and then call Marco and tell him everything. This is too important and too endangering to your future to bottle up for the next month and a half. Then you’ve got to ring Connie, and see if you can convince him to be your roommate for a while until that job with Ymir you mentioned can get settled. Okay?”

Jean wiped his nose in what he hoped was a somewhat dignified way, _when the fuck did I start crying all the fucking time?_ He wondered as Armin guided him out the door and waved him down the path to the street. 

The walk home was an uninteresting blur of suburbia, Jean had way too much going on in his head for anything around him to be of distraction. His parents pretentious-ass Toyota wasn’t in the drive so he risked sliding his key in the door and shuffling in the hall. There was a note on the table in his mother’s excessively cursive handwriting, giving vague specifics about how his parents would be home on the coming Wednesday, giving him roughly five days to figure out the next year of his life and make it abundantly clear that he would rather shit in his hands and clap then move up north. 

He wandered upstairs and flicked the radio onto the local station which played the least country music he could find with only moments to spare before the hot water kicked in and he started feeling uncomfortable about being naked around his house. (Drunk streaking was one thing to him, casual nudity was another can of worms entirely.)

Jean took a long shower, soaking up the scalding water until it began to putter into lukewarm territories. Then he finally shaved the bristles that had began to frame his angular jaw. The finishing touch was applying a little more herbal goop to his tattoo, which he thought was scabbing nicely- no blood or pus was a good sign and he hoped to keep it that way. 

Draping himself in a towel Jean sauntered back to his room, where Bon Jovi was emanating illustriously from the radio. Generally Jean found Bon Jovi a little too garish for his high-profile (Or as Eren called them, pretentious) tastes, but right now ‘Wanted Dead Or Alive’ was exactly what he needed, tugging matte leather up his thighs Jean couldn’t help but sing along just a little as the bridge kicked in.

 _“.. And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back.”_

He pulled his pants up fulling with a flourish, the little bit of singing become a lot as he howled out the words alongside Jon Bon Jovi shamelessly

_“I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back..”_

Jean buttoned his flies and began to scrabble around on the floor for an appropriate t-shirt without missing a beat

 _“..I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall,”_

His voice was muffled a little by the act of pulling on his shirt, he had bought it at the beginning of the summer and never really worn it since, but it was, in his opinion, pretty fuckin’ cute. Y’know, in a tough hardcore kind of way.

_"I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all, yeah!”_

By this point Jean was sure he had been through so much emotionally gruelling shit recently that he was now simply a man without shame. At this rate he would be walking around the house starkers, belting out George Micheal and giving zero shits about it by November.

Now that he was washed and clothed, he got on with shaving around his jaw, Armin was right, it did make him look pretty homeless, and Jean quietly begged his hormones to get on with their balancing as he dragged a razor across his face until it was smooth again.

Next was the arduous journey downstairs to fix himself something to eat. Three pop tarts later and Jean was feeling himself again, then began the long process of staring at the phone and figuring out his next move. He knew immediately that it was way too shitty to just call Marco and tell him what had happened to him the last few days, why he had been off the grid and not called him before he went to sleep like he usually did. 

Jean decided that first what he really needed was a nap, and once he was calm and refreshed he would make infinitely better decisions. He woke up with a start and drool over his chin, which he wiped away with disgust. Glancing around Jean’s room, he felt a little wigged-out, considering it was suddenly dark outside and that perhaps his nap had become a full-on coma for a few hours. Jean couldn’t help but suppose that crying really was exhausting, and resolved to stop doing so fucking much of it- his sleep pattern was horrific enough as it was and besides that he felt like Eren in the fourth grade doing all this bawling.

He decided to put on his record player and smoke his last few cigarettes out of the window of his bedroom, not that it was going to be his room for long thanks to his Judas-snakes of parents. By the time he had inhaled the last drags of his final Mayfair, Jean could spy the horizon beginning to glow like a furnace of hot coals; embers dancing and eddying as the sun rose. 

Jean watched until the sky was a pale shade of lilac streaked with cerulean and the slightest hue of amber before wandering downstairs to switch on the morning cartoons and prepare himself something to shove down his oesophagus and label ‘breakfast’. After twenty minutes of watching Alvin And The Chipmunks, Jean felt so nauseous that he had to retreat upstairs to change into something that wasn’t disgracefully rumpled from an impromptu coma, still clutching his toast. 

He decided the leather trousers were kick-ass enough to stay, but changed into a lavender tie-dye shirt that he would pretend he didn’t remember was left there a week ago by Marco, but totally did. Jean checked his watch, then added the twenty minutes onto that time that he’d need to take to psych himself up for this. Ten past eleven didn’t seem an unreasonable hour to Jean, so he spent his mandatory third of an hour inventing speeches in his head to reply to things that would never be asked of him and breathing just a smidge too quickly. 

Jean was an honest man though, and at 11:10, he dialled Marco’s number and shifted around awkwardly as it rang. And rang. And tediously continued to ring.  
Eventually there was an answer. “Hello? This is Carol Bodt, who is calling?”  
Jean’s throat dried out for a moment, but he forced the raspy tone out anyways.  
“Hi. This is Jean? I’m a friend of Marco’s.”  
“Ah, hello Jean. I’ve heard plenty about you.” Despite Jean sounding like a serial killer who existed on a diet of sandpaper, Mrs Bodt’s voice sounded warm and kindly.  
“I’ll just get Marco for you now.”

It was Jean’s second awkward phone conversation of the past two days day so therefore he was done being an uncomfortable little shit and began to absently whistle as the phone was passed between Marco and his mother.  
“Hello? Jean?” Marco’s voice was like a warm hug through electrical wires and soundwaves, (or at least probably, Jean thought Physics AP was a load of crap so he scarcely ever paid attention.)  
“Hi Marc. Sorry I’ve been kind of uh-”  
“Off the grid?” Marco supplied, sounding more amused than pissed off to Jean’s relief.  
“Yeah, that..” Jean finished lamely.  
Marco laughed and even with the crackle that followed it through the receiver Jean thought it was the best thing he had ever heard.  
“So, are you busy?” Jean asked, trying to redeem some of his dorkiness.  
“I’m spending the afternoon with family, I can come over at like six though?”  
“Uh sure, actually can I meet you in the park?“ Jean cringed at the idea of his parents returning home early and finding him home, especially with Marco.  
“Sounds perfect. Jean. are you okay?”  
“Yeah! I’m fine, great actually! And now I have to go, bye!”  
Jean slammed the phone down in a panic and hung his head. He was legitimately King of the Fucking Dorky-Ass Idiots and Prince Of Being Terrible Under Pressure.  
Whiling away the hours was tedious, and the walk was long and nerve-wracking. Jean was confident that Marco knew something was up, just because he always knew; Jean wondered idly if Marco earned another freckle whenever he did something scarily empathetic. It was a beautiful tableau, sunset streaked against the silhouette of the swings. Jean hoped it wouldn’t become a cursed tradition; they go to the swings together, one horrifically misunderstands a situation, hearts are broken. It sounded almost as bad as thanksgiving in his house. 

He could see Marco sitting on the swings as he crossed the field, Marco was wearing a plaid shirt as usual that made him look like an idiot but also like he was perfect enough to not need fashion sense. Jean couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he could see him sway slightly as his sneakers scuffed against the tarmac.  
Jean cupped his hands around his mouth and called to him. “Marco! Hey Marco!”  
Marco didn’t react, besides a slight tension gathering around his shoulders.  
Jean frowned and began to jog over, ignoring the dick-chafing tightness of his trousers.  
“Marco?” He called again, now only a hundred metres from where he was sat.  
He approached and cut his speed, so his first footsteps onto the tarmac were some kind of ungainly stagger. “Marco?” He asked again, this time his voice almost silent. He had been sure it was him, and it would be so fucking embarrassing if he had just shouted and ran at some random local kid who didn’t even know him. 

“Hi Jean.” It was Marco’s voice, although quiet and a little shaky.  
Jean paced around the swings to talk to Marco properly, and felt his legs almost crumple underneath him. Marco’s left eye was sealed shut with an ugly lump of a bruise, the skin purple and swollen up until his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone.  
“Marc, what-?” Jean’s words began to trip and tumble out of his mouth before he could stop them, but Marco silenced him with a strangled sob and shook his head firmly. 

Jean’s legs actually did collapse then, and he shuffled over to kneel between Marco’s legs. From that angle he could gently tip Marco’s chin upwards and kiss him chastely on the mouth with as much poise as he could when he felt like nuclear fission was happening inside his chest cavity. “It’s okay babe.” Jean murmured, trying to caress the skin on Marco’s face without hurting him further. Marco properly met his eyes then, and Jean saw more than he usually could hanging in the balance of the two brown orbs. He could see hurt and fear, anger too, and a ferocious light that Jean rarely saw within Marco. 

Without thinking Jean whispered, “I love you.”  
It was like flicking a switch, the fear and the hurt melted away into a wash of something else that made Jean sure that Marco’s soul was a sweet squishy thing that should never be tainted by the evils of the world. Marco kissed him, only softly to start with, but then Jean dragged their bodies together like any part of him that wasn’t touching Marco was going to spontaneously drop off. Marco mirrored his desperation, wrapping his legs around Jean’s hips and pulling their chests flush. 

Jean could feel the rest of the world fading around him. When kissing was this good, everything else kind of ceased to matter, especially when it came to Marco. Jean counted as they began to wane in his mind; his parents, Nedlay, Connie’s apartment and a bottle of pills still lingering under his bed. He said farewell to each of them as Marco tangled his fingers in his hair. 

Until a girl’s voice pierced the miasma with such velocity Marco almost fell off his swing backwards.  
“HOLY SHIT YOU TWO, IT’S TRADITIONAL TO COPULATE SOMEWHERE WHERE CHILDREN MIGHT _NOT_ have to see it.”


End file.
